&utu 


N 


_J      IT 


DRAMATIC  POEMS 

SONGS  AND  SONNETS 


DRAMATIC  POEMS 

SONGS  $/  SONNETS 


BY 


DONALD  ROBERTSON 

JfCTOR 


ALDERBR.IN 


SEYMOUR,DAUGHADAY  &  COMPANY 

FINE  ARTS  BUILDING  CHICAGO  ILL. 


CONTENTS 


DRAMATIC  POEMS 
THE  DUSTY  ROAD 
THREE  CRONIES 
CHRISTOPHER  HODGE 
SIR  EGO  AND  LADY  THINE 
TANT  MIEUX     . 
TANT  Pis       .... 
THE  PALACE  OF  DEAD  HOPES 
A  WEATHERCOCK 
A  SCARECROW 
A  MAID  o'  THE  MIST 
A  CRUCIFIED  CUPID 
ROMANCE       .... 
REWARD     .... 
THE  PRICE  OF  A  SONG 
A  TRAGEDY 
AN  ODD  MAN 
PASSERS  BY       ... 
FROM  FIRST  TO  LAST    . 


PAGE 
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BEAUTY'S  LADY  :  A  SONNET  SEQUENCE 
BEAUTY'S  LADY         ... 
AN  EPISODE  .... 

A  VISION  . 

THE  WANDERING  JEW 

WHICH? 

THE  TORTURE  CHAMBER 

AN  ACCIDENT        .... 

A  BANQUET       . 

ECCE  HOMO  .... 

SPRING 


49 
51 
52 
53 
54 
55 
56 
57 
58 
59 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  FAR  CRY 60 

MORNING 61 

NOON 62 

MIDNIGHT 63 

SHADOWS 64 

WHISPERS 65 

A  DREAM 66 

THE  TORNADO'S  HEART 67 

SUMMER 68 

IN  THE  WOODS 69 

TOGETHER 70 

FOREVER 71 

PROSPECT 72 

MY  AMBITION 73 

A  GLAD  DAY 74 

REPOSE 75 

A  DIVINE  COMEDY 76 

EVEN  So 77 

COMFORT 78 

AUTUMN 79 

IMPRESSIONS 80 

JUST  AN  IDEA 81 

FORCED  JOY 82 

DISTRAUGHT 83 

A  SAD  DAY 84 

A  BARBARIAN .85 

A  CASTAWAY 86 

As  YE  Sow 87 

A  LONG  JOURNEY 88 

A  BOUQUET 89 

THE  FOUNDLING 90 

A  GHOST 91 

SHIPS 92 

REMEMBRANCE 93 

A  POOR  PLAYER 94 

WINTER 95 

MIRAGE 96 

THE  VERDICT 97 

A  PASSING  WORD 98 

THE  LAST  WORD 99 

A  FOOTNOTE  100 


CONTENTS  xi 

SONGS  AND  BALLADS  PAGE 

WHAT  SHALL  BE  SAID  OF  THESE  SONGS  OF  MINE?        .  101 

A  LITTLE  SONG 103 

RECOGNITION 104 

LOVE'S  COMING 105 

A  SONG  FOR  THE  CHILDREN 106 

HUSH 107 

REST  THEE 108 

A  THOUGHT 108 

HEIGH-HO 109 

A  SONG 110 

MY  LADY 110 

To  BEAUTY Ill 

A  LITTLE  WHISPER Ill 

THE  LAST  HOPE 112 

LOVE 112 

A  PAGAN  LILT 113 

LIFE 113 

A  LOVE  SONG 114 

A  TOAST 114 

A  DUET 115 

Two  SONGS 115 

UNLESS 116 

LOVE  AND  LIFE 117 

HER  WORDS 117 

MY  SWEETHEART 118 

DEAR  HEART 119 

DID  You  BUT  KNOW  [FROM  THE  FRENCH]       .        .        .  120 

RESEMBLANCE  [FROM  THE  FRENCH]       .        .        .        .  121 

"As  You  WERE" 122 

A  PRISONER 123 

DREAM  BLISS 123 

BOHEMIA 124 

HARMONY 125 

A  LOVE  LETTER 126 

IN  THE  DAYS  THAT  NEVER  COME  TO  PASS          .        .        .127 

SPRING 128 

AN  AUTUMN  IDYL 129 

THE  FIRST  BORN 130 

BROTHERS 131 

GRUMPY'S  SONG  131 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

MARY  ANDERSON 215 

ELLEN  TERRY 216 

JULIA  MARLOWE            217 

ADA  REHAN 218 

MAUDE  ADAMS. 219 

MADAM  NAZEMOVA 220 

HENRIETTA  GROSSMAN 221 

A  BROTHER  ARTIST 222 

MADONNA  MIA 223 

ANNA 224 

To  ANNA 225 

MRS.  I.  N.  M 226 

To  MY  SON'S  MOTHER 227 

AN  ACROSTIC 228 

SHAKESPEARE'S  BIRTHDAY 229 

To  MARIE 230 

WHEN  THE  MOTHER  PASSED 231 

To  A  LITTLE  GIRL 232 

To   ANOTHER   LITTLE    GlRL 233 

To  MY  BOY            ....                 ...  234 

THEODORE  ROOSEVELT 235 

To  A.  J.  B 236 

ON  MARGARET  ROBERTSON'S  PORTRAIT      ....  237 

ARAB  238 


DRAMATIC  POEMS 


DRAMATIC  POEMS 


THE  DUSTY  ROAD 

UNDONICHIE  is  fair  to  see- 
Hold    on    to   Truth,    hold    fast   to 

Truth,— 

And  there  lived  golden-haired  Marie, 
A  wind-blown  bud  of  melody, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 


The  tender  lines  of  girlish  grace, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
Were  in  her  figure,  and  her  face 
Was  wistful  Beauty's  resting  place, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

The  hopeful  Springtime's  crisp  delight, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
The  peace  of  gloaming  Autumn's  night, 
Lay  in  her  eyes,  so  calm  and  bright, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

She  was  a  thing  of  joy  complete, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
From  open  forehead  to  her  feet 
That  tripped  to  Nature's  rhythmic  beat, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 


DRA  MA  TIC    POEMS 

A  lonely  shepherd  years  before, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 

When  searching  in  the  stars  for  lore 

Had  found  a  Gipsy  by  his  door, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

A  tawny  fearless  Gipsy  maid, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
Had  from  her  roving  comrades  strayed, 
And  there  for  shelter  begged  and  prayed, 

On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

The  shepherd  took  the  Gipsy  in, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
She  came  from  where  his  thoughts  had  been, 
The  far-off  East  that  first  knew  Sin, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

He  gave  her  cakes  and  milk  of  goat, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
He  watched  her  throbbing  breast  and  throat, 
And  mystic  love  his  man's  heart  smote, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

She  thanked  him  when  her  dark  eyes  smiled,- 
Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 

She  fell  asleep  on  sheepskins  piled 

Before  his  fire,  a  woman-child, 

On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

Lost  in  his  thoughts  till  crow-o'-cock, — 
Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 

The  shepherd  sat,  then  turned  the  lock, 

And  went  afield  to  tend  his  flock, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 


DRAMATIC    POEMS 

His  ewes  and  lambs  he  thought  of  least, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
The  Sun  and  She  came  from  the  east, 
To  warm  his  heart,  his  Soul  to  feast, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

His  round  he  made,  then  hastened  home, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
Beneath  a  faint  rose-tinted  dome 
Of  dawn,  to  say,  "Maid  no  more  roam" 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

He  plucked  some  wild  flowers  as  he  sped, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
He  proffered  and  she  chose  the  red, 
And  wove  them  round  her  raven  head, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

E'en  younger  than  her  daughter  now, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
He  kissed  her  eyelids  and  her  brow, 
And  each  to  each  made  mutual  vow, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

In  due  time  came  God's  gift,  Marie, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 

To  make  a  perfect  family, 

Of  three  in  one,  and  one  of  three, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

The  child  grew  up  as  Nature  willed, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
The  mother's  restless  blood  was  stilled, 
The  shepherd's  cup  of  joy  was  filled, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 


DRA  MA  TIC    POEMS 

The  years  flew  by  like  startled  fawns, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
And  left  the  child's  face  like  the  dawn's, 
The  mother's  like  a  dream  in  bronze, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

Long  nights  and  sombre  indoor  days,— 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 

Would  find  the  shepherd,  silent,  gaze 

Into  the  Spirit's  mystic  maze, 

On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

These  hours  the  Gipsy  would  beguile, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,— 
With  legends  first  told  by  the  Nile, 
Of  gods,  and  mortals,  love  and  wile, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

How  Luna  roams  untouched  by  fears, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 

For  hosts  of  stars  with  shining  spears 

Attend  on  her  where  she  appears, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

Then  when  one  winter's  snow  lay  deep, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
The  shepherd  babbling  of  his  sheep, 
Closed  his  cold  eyes  in  his  long  sleep, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

The  Gipsy  fain  would  then  depart, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,— 
But  Marie  tethered  by  the  heart 
Held  back,  and  would  not,  could  not  start, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 


D  RA  MA  TIC    POEMS 

A  dowie  year  and  more  dragged  by, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
With  longings  smothered  in  a  sigh 
And  dim  forebodings  hanging  nigh, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

Then  in  the  second  summer  time, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, - 
A  Minstrel  with  his  careless  rhyme 
Came  singing  from  a  distant  clime, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

He  tuned  his  harp  and  then  would  sing, — 
Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
Of  hate  that  dies  by  its  own  sting, 
Of  Love  that  conquers  everything, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

The  Gipsy's  soul  stirred  in  its  lair, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
And  Marie's  face  grew  wondrous  fair, 
As  though  a  smile  becalmed  lay  there, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

As  bird  to  cooing  mate-bird  calls, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 

By  silv'ry  sylvan  waterfalls, 

He  sang  to  Marie  madrigals, 

On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

And  listening  'neath  the  summer  moon, — 
Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth ,- 

Her  water-lily  soul  would  swoon, 

Into  the  current  of  his  tune, 

On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 


DRAMATIC    POEMS 

Abandoned  to  a  heavenly  mood, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth ,- 
She  only  felt  and  understood 
That  life  through  him  was  very  good, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

And  lost  in  dreams  of  bliss,  saw  not, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
The  Gipsy  with  fierce  longings  fraught, 
The  Gipsy  with  desire  distraught, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

The  Gipsy  through  whose  veins  at  last, — 
Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 

The  pent  up  passion  of  the  past 

Pulsed  like  a  fiery  furnace  blast, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

A  surging,  craving  passion  dire, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
A  desecrating  mad  desire, 
That  burned  like  wild  volcanic  fire, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

The  Minstrel,  though  the  maid  was  blind,- 
Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, - 
As  if  by  lightning  saw  the  mind, 
That  in  the  famished  Gipsy  pined, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

Between  a  blessing  and  a  bane, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
The  fairy-fabric  of  his  brain 
Stretched  on  the  tenter-hooks  of  pain, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 


D  RA  MA  TIC    POEMS 

And  then  alas!  alas!  ere  long, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
He  hovered  between  right  and  wrong, 
And  lost  the  blessed  gift  of  song, 

On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

Then  when  a  boding  silence  fell, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 

The  Gipsy  with  alluring  spell, 

Drew  him  within  the  arms  of  hell, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

Meanwhile  Marie  both  night  and  day, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,— 
Was  haunted  by  a  vague  dismay, 
And  crept  forth  to  the  woods  to  pray, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

There  in  its  deepest  shadow  place, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
Unseen,  she  saw  the  Minstrel's  face, 
Within  the  Gipsy's  warm  embrace, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

For  one  brief  biting  moment  saw, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 

Then  felt  a  numbing  horror  draw 

On  her  an  avalanche  of  awe, 

On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

She  felt  stunned,  broken,  chilled  and  choked,- 
Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,— 
Sunk  in  such  night  as  Egypt  cloaked, 
And  raven-like  a  Death-head  croaked, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 


DRA  MA  TIC    POEMS 

For  her  the  future,  present,  past, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
Was  hopeless,  hideous  chaos  vast, 
Whereat  the  soul  stood  off  aghast, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

As  mute  as  marble  was  her  breast, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,— 
Until  the  sun  with  haze  oppressed, 
Blushed  crimson  in  the  vacant  west, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

And  then  a  grim  thought  came  to  her, — 
Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 

Like  child  born  in  a  sepulchre, 

To  be  Fate's  wrathful  minister, 

On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

What  followed,  Fate  alone  then  knew, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
As  in  her  brain  a  strange  power  grew, 
Back  to  her  father's  house  she  flew, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

Saw  the  flushed  Gipsy's  glad  proud  look, — 
Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth,- 
Quick  from  the  wall  a  dirk  she  took, 
That  hung  beneath  a  shepherd's  crook, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

Three  swift  footsteps  the  silence  broke, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth ,- 
And  then  a  sure  swift  vivid  stroke, 
And,  "Die,"  the  only  word  she  spoke, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 


DRAMATIC    POEMS 

The  Gipsy  fell  face-forward  clean, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
Then  Marie  drove  the  dagger  keen, 
Her  own  pure  snow-white  breasts  between, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

The  Minstrel  rushed  in,  saw  the  whole, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
Heard  Marie  get  of  speech  control, 
"I  killed  her  body,  she  your  soul," 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

"Live  on  and  be  forever  young," — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 

"Singing  the  unknown  lands  among, 

Unheeded,  in  an  alien  tongue," 

On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

So  said,  she  passed  as  all  souls  must, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 

Pain,  pleasure,  passion,  love  and  lust, 

Heaped  in  a  little  mound  of  dust, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

The  Minstrel  took  two  strands  of  hair, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
One  golden,  one  black  as  despair, 
And  wove  them  into  harp-strings  rare, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 

Then  wandered  off  to  ways  unknown, — 

Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, — 
Where  songs  of  last  year's  birds  have  flown, 
And  tares  are  reaped,  and  tears  are  sown, 
On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise. 


DRAMATIC    POEMS 

'Tis  said  he  joined  in  vales  untrod 

The  fallen  angels  Eis-teddfod, 

Away  behind  the  back  of  God; 

And  sings  through  an  eternal  youth, 

As  his  harp-strings  sob  to  human  sighs — 

"Hold  on  to  Truth,  hold  fast  to  Truth, 

On  the  dusty  road  to  Paradise." 


T 


THREE  CRONIES 

HREE  cronies  met  beside  a  casket  cold, 
And  one  was  in  his  prime,  one  young,  one  old, 
Two  knew  the  corpse  the  casket  did  enfold. 


Then  said  the  eldest,  who  is  named  the  Past, 
"Around  the  maypole  Hope  he  danced  when  last 
I  saw  him  with  no  cares  o'ercast." 

The  middle-aged  surnamed  the  Present  said, 
"It  seems  but  now  he  raised  his  eager  head 
To  see  Love  go  and  fall  back  free  and  dead." 

The  third,  the  Future,  with  veiled  eyes  made  moan, 
"I  claim,  although  to  me  in  life  unknown 
This  dead  Dream  coffined  in  a  heart  of  stone." 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  11 


CHRISTOPHER  HODGE 

HE  was  all  a  mistake,  a  fellow  I  knew, 
From    beginning    to    end,    if   you    looked  all 
through 

A  life-record  of  times  gone  by, 
I  have  doubts  if  you  found  there  so  odd  a  case, 
As  this  fellow  I  knew,  with  a  scholar's  face, 
And  whose  life  was  a  deep,  long  sigh. 

Would  you  like  me  to  tell  what  I  know  of  him? 
It  might  raise  up  a  pitying  thought,  tear-dim, 

Or  perchance  be  counted  a  bore; 
No!  I  hope  if  it's  that,  you  will  say,  "Enough", 
When  you  please,  time  is  short,  why  waste  it  on  stuff 

That  kills  time,  and  does  nothing  more. 

To  begin,  I  have  heard  that  his  birth  was  bane 
To  his  father,  a  man  of  old  books;  nor  gain 

To  his  mother,  unloved,  unblessed, 
Who  had  plucked,  in  the  dawn,  from  the  flowers  that 

grew 
By  her  way,  and  alas,  not  lillies  but  rue 

She  had  chosen  to  wear  on  her  breast. 

She  had  been  but  a  poor  light  plaything  of  sin, 
Drifting  down  to  the  sea,  the  great  sea,  wherein 

Time's  impurities  all  are  lost. 
But  I  think  she  looked  back,  with  a  longing  eye, 
To  the  pastures  of  peace  she  had  left,  Ai!  ai! 

For  the  waves  that  are  passion  tossed. 


12  DRAMATIC    POEMS 

Of  his  father,  this  much,  be  the  rest  forgot: 
In  a  rebel  moment  of  life,  he  begot 

The  poor  friend  that  I  afterwards  knew; 
Then  he  burrowed  for  truth  in  his  books  again, 
And  he  lost  all  compassion  and  touch  with  men, 

Aye,  and  lost  himself,  somehow,  too. 

The  lad's  age  was  eighteen  when  the  father  died, 
The  poor  woman  went  out  on  an  ebbing  tide 

Before  that,  and  Christopher  Hodge 
Was  alone  in  the  world  with  his  mother's  name, 
And  a  crave  for  the  pure,  and  a  sense  of  shame, 

That  had  come  in  his  soul  to  lodge. 

At  a  school  in  the  country  he  lived  till  then, 

Where  they  taught  him  the  use  of  his  tongue  and  pen, 

Where  they  saw  all  the  strength  he  lacked, 
To  supply,  not  develop,  was  their  one  way, 
Some  think  it  the  best  for  the  world's  work-a-day, 

Being  finite  as  any  fact. 

In  the  ignorant  bliss  of  unthinking  youth, 
He  came  up  to  the  city,  and  learned  the  truth 

Of  his  birth;  like  a  lightning  flash 
It  scorched  hope  in  his  soul  and  put  out  the  sun, 
For  the  future  seemed  all  by  the  past  undone, 

And  the  world  round  his  ears  a-crash. 

"For  what  use?  For  what  use  is  my  life?"  he  cried. 
And  the  devil,  astride  of  his  heart,  replied, 

"To  enjoy  the  sweet  juice  I  wring 
From  the  days  that  I  pluck  from  the  vine  of  Time ; 
So  fill  up  a  bumper,  and  drink  deep,  and  rhyme 

Me  a  rhyme  to  the  tune  I  sing." 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  13 

Well,  he  drank  and  he  danced  till  his  young  blood  boiled, 
Every  pleasure  the  body  could  give,  despoiled, 

As  he  clutched  at  the  hour's  delight, 
Made  a  dash  from  himself,  and  with  spurs  of  fire 
Dug  the  flanks  of  the  courser  he  rode,  Desire, 

Far  into  the  shadow  of  night. 

Rode  on  faster  and  faster,  until  at  last 

He  was  thrown  in  the  dark,  with  the  hateful  Past 

At  his  throat  like  a  Nemesis, 
Reawakened  from  out  of  the  Infinite, 
And  refreshed  for  the  sleep  he  had  given  it, 

On  his  face  he  could  feel  it  hiss. 

"Now,  Sir  Fool,  you  are  mine,  just  to  break  or  bend 
As  I  will,  till  the  days  of  your  life  shall  end, 

And  the  dust  takes  again  its  dust; 
Through  the  dim  dismal  glass  of  a  might-have-been, 
You  shall  see  afar  off  in  a  mist  of  sin, 

O'er  the  body  of  Love  stands  Lust." 

For  a  space  on  his  soul  fell  a  clammy  chill, 

And  he  shut  his  eyes  tight,  but  the  fiend  was  still 

By  his  side,  saying,  "You  are  mine, 
Through  the  low  lying  lands  of  despair  and  slush, 
I  shall  bid  you  laugh  wildly,  I'll  bid  you  hush, 

What  I  will,  you  shall  do,  in  fine." 

As  the  goad  that  enrages  a  captive  bull, 

Till  its  poor  bursting  brain  with  its  blood  is  full, 

And  its  wild  eyes  glitter  and  shine, 
So  the  quick  of  his  soul  by  that  thought  was  touched, 
And  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  the  fiend's  throat  clutched, 

And  cried,  "No!  by  God,  you  are  mine." 


14  DRAMATIC    POEMS 

And  he  wrestled  and  fought  till  his  foe  lay  dead 
At  his  feet,  and  alone  in  the  dark,  he  said, 

"God  help  me,"  Then  lo!  in  the  east 
There  arose  a  Hope-herald,  rose-crowned,  with  light 
On  its  face,  and  with  peace  in  its  hand,  and  night, 

And  the  darkness  of  doubting,  ceased. 

Now  I  think  it  was  then  he  found  out  this  truth, 
That  he  ought  to  have  learned  in  his  early  youth, 

In  the  years  that  promise  and  pass, 
That  a  shadow  is  but  the  effect  of  light, 
But  a  stain  may  be  like,  yet  is  unlike  quite, 

Aye,  and  different  quite,  alas! 

But  be  that  as  it  may,  he  took  up  his  life 

And  he  worked,  though  his  works,  swallowed  up  in  strife, 

Seemed  like  still-born  deeds  of  a  dream ; 
For  he  met  with  a  cynical  smile  and  sneer, 
In  this  age  of  thin  varnish  o'er  thin  veneer, 

In  this  age  trying  hard  to  seem. 

Ere  the  hard  hand  of  habit  at  last  was  laid 

On  his  heart,  and  unchallenged  he  heard  it  said, 

"Starve  on  fancies,  men  live  on  facts," 
The  old  crave  for  the  pure  repossessed  his  soul, 
And  an  unfulfilled  feeling  ran  through  the  whole 

Cause  and  compass  of  all  his  acts. 

He  was  not  quite  enough  for  himself  you  see, 
And  for  such,  a  heart  only  can  heart-help  be, 

With  respect  tying  Love's  shoe-string. 
So  it  chanced,  he  met  a  young  maid,  passing  fair, 
With  dark-lined,  peering  eyes  and  a  wealth  of  hair, 

And  a  mouth  that  might  make  sorrow  sing. 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  15 

And  they  loved  each  the  other  completely,  well, 
In  the  circle  Fate  drew  round  their  lives,  a  spell 

Of  dream-bliss  soothed  and  hallowed  all; 
The  fringe  of  a  cloud  is  the  gift  of  the  Sun, 
So  the  light  that  lay  round  them  seemed  sent  from  One 

That  doth  mark  e'en  the  sparrow's  fall. 

You  might  search  o'er  the  earth,  and  no  one,  I  ween, 
More  contentedly  glad,  could  by  you  be  seen, 

Than  was  Christopher  Hodge  that  day; 
When  he  called  her  his  wife — his  wife — Paradise 
Seemed  to  open  before  his  bewildered  eyes, 

And  his  thankful  heart  knelt  to  pray. 

Here  at  last  was  the  pure  his  own,  very  own, 
A  fit  jewel  to  gem  the  arm  of  the  Throne, 

A  glory,  a  gladness,  for  aye; 
And  by  day  and  by  night  he  strove  after  grace, 
To  be  worthy  to  look  on  her  pale,  pure  face, 

Hear  her  voice,  soft  as  Love's  own  lay. 

Every  yearning  his  heart  had  was  toward  the  good, 
To  be  rapt  and  entranced  in  a  heavenly  mood, 

To  be  near  her  his  high  Ideal ; 
To  have  soul  clasp  the  soul  as  the  flesh  had  done, 
And  be,  past  all  Time's  limits,  entirely  one, 

And  be  sure  that  that  hope  was  real. 

In  the  white  heat  of  such  an  intense  man's  life, 
All  she  had  been  and  was  and  should  be,  his  wife 

Brooded  over,  it  urged  her  on, 

Enticed  her,  compelled  her  to  make  herself  known, 
To  reveal,  aye,  though  Heaven  and  earth  should  moan, 

What  she  was  in  her  life's  gray  dawn. 


16  DRAMATIC    POEMS 

In  the  shivering  gloom  of  an  autumn  night, 

She  said,  "Chris,  I  was  not  all  you  thought,  a  blight 

Smirched  my  life,  in  the  days  gone  by; 
Tears  and  prayers  of  repentance  at  last  brought  peace, 
Till  you  came  and  believed  in  me;  bid  me  cease 

To  live  on,  but  believe  no  lie." 

The  thud,  thud  of  his  heart,  thud  on  thud  repeat, 
He  could  hear,  and  it  seemed  like  the  dull  drum-beat 

Of  the  funeral  march  of  Hope. 

Then  his  eyes  came  from  vacancy  and  said,  "Live!" 
And  his  lips,  ashen  white,  said,  "I — I  forgive — 

To  the  light,  to  the  light  we  grope." 

And  well  nigh  to  a  year,  they  trudged  side  by  side 
Up  the  hills  to  the  Light,  and  in  truth  defied 

The  grim  thoughts  that  unasked  would  come 
When  o'nights  they  would  sit  and  a  silence  fall, 
And  a  ghost  of  the  past  write  upon  the  wall, 

"You  must  think  though  ye  both  are  dumb." 

Then  the  tired  woman  sickened  and  turned  her  eyes 
To  the  east,  and  a  faint  smile  of  sweet  surprise 

Seemed  to  light  up  their  filmy  grey; 
And  her  husband  bent  low,  and  she  said — "One  kiss," 
And  then  quietly,  gently,  "I  loved  you,  Chris" — 

The  next  moment  she  went  away. 

For  a  day  and  a  night  he  sat  there  alone 

With  his  dead,  like  his  dead  turned  all  into  stone, 

Dead  to  hope  and  to  fear  alike. 
Then  he  rose  and  cried,  "God!  if  a  God  there  be, 
Answer  this,  why  you  make  me  a  mockery, 

Is  there  nothing  Godlike  to  strike?" 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  17 

"You  shall  not,  by  this  knife  in  my  clenched  right 

hand, 
Try  me  more,  I  have  striven  to  understand, 

But  I  cannot,  this  life  of  pain; 

Now  I  come — list!  have  mercy,  and  grant  this  prayer, 
All  I  ask,  may  we  not  know  each  other  there, 

Only  love,  only  love  remain." 

He  was  all  a  mistake,  from  the  first  to  last, 
As  I  said,  and  his  work  was  as  thin  dust  cast 

In  the  face  of  a  fierce  north  gale; 
AH  a  strange  sad  mistake  from  his  very  birth, 
And  the  passionate  sun  and  the  patient  earth, 

Saw  him  struggle  awhile  and  fail. 


18  DRAMATIC    POEMS 


SIR  EGO  AND  LADY  THINE 

1  THINK  it  will  end  in  a  laugh, 
You  fear  it  will  end  in  a  sigh, 
Meanwhile 

With  a  smile 

Let  us  quaff 
A  bowl  to  the  dim  bye-and-by. 

Recalling  the  time  that  we  met, 

Forgetting  what  falls  in  between, 
I  seem 

In  a  dream 

To  be  set 
Again  at  the  feet  of  my  Queen. 

You  smiled  and  revealed  Heaven's  grace, 
Ere  off  on  our  separate  ways 

We  went, 

And  content 
For  a  space 

Filled  up  my  unquestioning  days. 

Indeed,  in  a  nimbus  of  rest, 

I  lived  as  a  Soul  that  had  come 

To  wait 

By  the  gate 

Of  the  Blest, 

For  joy,  satisfied  to  be  dumb. 

When  after  a  year  we  were  brought 
By  Fate  face  to  face  once  again, 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  19 

A  shade 

That  was  made, 

So  I  thought, 
By  doubt  was  upon  your  brow  then. 

Or  was  it  a  fancy  of  mine? 

Perhaps,  either  way  I  was  made 
To  feel 

I  should  kneel 

At  the  shrine, 
Where  oft  in  my  dreams  I  had  prayed. 

To  kneel  and  confess  all  the  love 

A  man  for  a  woman  can  feel, 
A  wild 

Joy  beguiled 

From  above 
To  come  at  the  Soul's  call  to  heel. 

Mir  able  dictu!  you  heard, 

With  such  a  sweet  look  on  your  face, 
I  felt 

As  I  knelt, 

In  a  word, 
My  Soul  in  an  angel's  embrace. 

You  gave  me  no  word,  it  is  true, 

Of  hope,  but  I  did  hope,  you  know 

The  why, 
So  do  I, 

I  pray  you 

Will  pardon  me  telling  you  so. 


20  DRAM  AT  1C    POEMS 

Forgive  too  the  exquisite  truth 

My  memory  conjures  up  now, 

You  pressed 

To  my  breast 
In  uncouth 

Hot  grasp  with  my  breath  on  your  brow. 

Your  brow  and  your  lips  and  your  eyes 
I  kissed,  did  I  not?  Did  I  not? 

You  blush 

And  a  flush 

Of  surprise 

Makes  answer  you  have  not  forgot. 

Surprise  that  I  should  question,  eh? 

All  right!  but  we  parted  you  know, 
Because 

By  the  laws 

Of  fair  play, 
You  let  me  see  why  I  should  go. 

Yes,  go  and  go  quickly,  for  he, 

My  friend,  thought  himself  beloved  too 
By  you! 

To  be  true 

And  to  be 
Half  honest,  what  else  could  I  do? 

But  first  e'er  I  went,  you  asked,  I 

Should  keep  'neath  the  roof  of  my  heart 

Your  own 

Empty  throne 
Till  I  die 

Forever  for  you  set  apart. 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  21 

Unless!  ah,  and  here  was  the  sting — 

Some  day  or  some  night  you  should  come 

To  me, 

Silently, 

A  lost  thing 

Of  joy  knowing  sorrow's  full  sum. 

Benumbed  by  the  ghost  of  a  dream 

Of  Love  you  would  seek  Love  itself, 

And  claim 

In  its  name 

All  we  deem 

Beyond  envy,  passion,  or  pelf. 

The  promise  you  asked  for  I  gave, 

But  knew  as  I  spoke  that  I  stood 
'  Beside 

The  ebb  tide, 

The  tenth  wave 
That  drowns  all  of  hope  that  seems  good. 

Permit  me  to  fill  up  your  wine, 

Do  I  chatter  too  much,  mon  ami? 

No?  No? 

Not  although 
I  design 

To  ramble  on  incessantly? 

The  promise  you  asked  for  I  kept, 
And  lo,  for  a  third  time  we  meet, 

But,  Queen, 

In  between 

Us  has  crept 

The  sound  of  his  ghostly  dead  feet. 


22  DRAMATIC    POEMS 

The  ghost  of  my  friend  who  loved  you, 
Whom  you  loved  till  death  suddenly 

One  day 

Took  away 

From  the  view 

And  sound  of  the  sun  and  the  sea. 

The  sorrow  that  made  your  heart  ice, 
Through  days  then  of  feverish  strife, 

Was  not 

Though  I  wot 

The  chilled  vise 

You  feared  once  might  hold  you  through  life. 

It  was  not  so  cold  as  a  love 

Grown  cold,  or  so  full  of  regret, 

You  still, 

If  you  will, 

Say  thereof, 

With  calm  looking  forward, — kismet. 

Do  you?  Pray,  but  stop,  why  should  I 
Ask  you!  It  should  be  sufficient 

For  me 

That  I  see 

You  here  by 

My  side — should  I  not  be  content? 

Yes,  truly,  if  one  could  go  back 

And  swoon  on  a  sweet  stolen  kiss, 

But  strange 

There's  a  change 
And  a  lack 

Of  something  in  both  that  we  miss. 


D  RA  M  ATI  C    POEMS  23 

Perhaps  it  may  be  we  have  grown 

To  think  of  each  other  too  well, 
The  hour 

Of  Love's  flower 

Was  full  blown 
Too  soon,  and  too  soon  its  leaves  fell. 

Time  leaves  us  at  last  simply  friends, 
Expecting  great  things  each  of  each, 

We  strain 

Now  to  gain 

Diff'rent  ends, 

For  diff  'rent  Ideals  we  reach. 

Your  touch  does  not  thrill  to  my  touch, 
Nor  glance  answer  glance  as  it  did. 

.Ehew ! 

We  are  two, 

And  so  much 

For  doing  what  damned  Duty  bid. 

What's  that?  You  say,  how  the  hours  pass? 

Must  go?  Nay,  but  clink  a  good  night, 
And  laugh 

As  we  quaff 

Our  last  glass, 
Good  heavens!  Little  One,  you  look  white. 

Sit  down!  Are  you  ill?  Are  you  faint? 

You  smile,  but  that  look  in  your  eyes 
Says  plain 

You're  in  pain! 

My  sweet  saint, 
There!  there!  pray  don't  try  to  disguise! 


24  DRA  M  ATI  C    POEMS 

More  air!  Good!  So!  lean  here  your  head! 

Dear  Soul,  my  lost  Love,  how  you  start. 
"Adieu, 

I  loved  you" 

What!  She's  dead! 
Great  God !  I  have  broken  her  heart ! 


TANT  MIEUX 

"Tant  pis  and  tant  mieux  being  two  of  the  great  hinges  in  French 
conversation."  LAWRENCE  STERNE,  Sentimental  Journey 

THE  story  of  this  simple  scroll 
Is  not  from  Fame's  long  rigmarole, 
It's  somewhat  queer  and  rather  droll, 

It's  true; 

"Its  chance  of  hearing  then  is  small," 
Said  someone  whom  I  won't  recall; 
Eh?    "Come  on,  let  us  hear  it  all," 

Tant  Mieux. 

I'll  be  as  brief,  then,  as  I  can, 
And  tell  the  story  of  a  man 
Whose  life  was  made  upon  a  plan 

Not  new. 

A  life  with  no  desire  for  state 
Or  rank,  or  what  the  world  calls  great; 
He  held  that  God  controlled  his  fate, 

Tant  Mieux. 


D  RA  MA  TI  C    POEMS  25 

I  met  him  first  in  student  days — 
When  life  seemed  set  to  roundelays, 
That  sang  of  nothing  but  Love's  praise; 

Echew ! 

Why  even  now,  sometimes,  he  seems 
Part  of  the  rainbow  colored  dreams, 
That  from  the  past  shed  gentle  beams, 

Tant  Mteux. 

He  lived  up  in  a  garret  high, 
Where  he  could  see  the  swallows  fly 
Across  the  housetops,  near  the  sky 

So  blue; 

For  fifty  years,  from  sun  to  sun, 
He  toiled,  until  his  glass  was  run, 
And  then  he  said,  "Thy  will  be  done, 

Tant  Mieux." 

A  singing  soul  had  Jean  Laplace, 
And  so  you  see  it  came  to  pass, 
That  music,  sweet  as  sprinkled  grass 

With  dew 

He  wrote,  and  sold  too,  it  appears, 
While  round  his  heart,  delicious  tears 
Kept  fresh  his  nature  all  these  years, 

Tant  Mieux. 

A  thin  old  man  whose  gentle  eyes, 

Had  never  lost  the  first  surprise, 

With  which  they  saw  Life's  morning  rise 

In  view; 

Of  summer's  heat,  of  winter's  snow, 
He  always  said,  '"Tis  better  so," 
Or  words  to  that  effect,  you  know, 

"Tant  Mieux." 


26  DRAMATIC    POEMS 

He  came  while  quite  a  lad,  you  see, 
Up  from  the  South  to  "beau  Paris," 
And  none  more  pure,  more  good  than  he, 

More  true, 

Have  set  aside  all  thoughts  of  gain, 
Have  made  a  pleasure  out  of  pain, 
Have  had,  to  all  their  thoughts,  refrain, 

Tant  Mieux. 

He  loved  once,  with  a  boy's  strong  might, 
A  maid  as  pure  as  virgin  light, 
That  wells  forever  from  God's  sight 

Anew; 

To  him  she  seemed  a  holy  thing, 
Sent  here  to  do  God's  minis 'tring, 
And  all  the  airs  of  Heaven  to  bring, 

Tant  Mieux. 

In  summer  when  the  nights  were  long, 
Among  the  vines  she  sang  her  song, 
The  village  loved  Louise  Perron, 

Called  Lou 

By  him  who  through  his  coming  life 
Saw  her  amid  its  joys  and  strife — 
Forever  as  his  blessed  wife, 

Tant  Mieux. 

But— 

Her  mother  chose  a  convent  cell 

For  her  young  life;  now,  if  'twere  well 

Or  no,  I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell, 

Can  you? 

Jean's  love,  however,  knew  no  taint 
Of  self,  he  never  made  complaint, 
He  once  said,  though,  "Now  she's  a  saint, 

Tant  Mieux." 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  27 

And  then  he  came  to  Paris  gay, 
To  hide  his  bitter  grief  away, 
But  never  to  the  past,  to  say 

Adieu! 

Ah!  no,  the  memory  of  her  face 
Made  bright  his  lonely  little  place, 
And  gave  his  life  a  tender  grace, 

Tant  Mieux. 

Here  he  wrote  music  by  the  sheet, 
It  was  not  strong,  but  oh,  'twas  sweet 
As  babbling  brooks,  or  rustling  wheat, 

And  you, 

If  you  had  heard  his  old  violin 
Disperse  the  darkening  clouds  of  sin, 
You  ever  after  would  have  been, 

Tant  Mieux. 

Year  after  year,  earn  what  he  could, 
It  scarcely  paid  the  price  of  food, 
Of  scanty  raiment,  coal,  and  wood; 

He  grew 

Year  after  year  more  gray  and  bent, 
But  never  from  his  heart  was  sent 
A  word  to  Heaven  of  discontent, 

Tant  Mieux. 

And  then  when  nigh  to  death  he  lay, 
On  mercy's  errand  bent,  one  day 
An  old  nun  came,  and  strange  to  say 

'Twas  Lou; 

Back  from  his  face  his  hair  he  cast, 
And  o'er  his  eyes  his  fingers  passed, 
And  then  he  said  "You've  come  at  last," 

Tant  Mieux. 


28  DRAMATIC    POEMS 

She,  mid  her  tears,  "Jean,  you  believe!" 
"Ah,  yes,"  he  said,  "there,  there,  don't  grieve, 
I've  nothing  on  this  earth  to  leave 

But  you." 

And  then  'twixt  dreams  and  mem'ries  riven, 
He  wispered  out  the  word  "Forgiven," 
And  then — "We  meet  again  in  Heaven, 

Tant  Mieux." 


TANT  PIS 

IN  truth  this  is  a  sad  story, 
With  neither  mirth  nor  mystery, 
A  woman  with  a  history, 

Ah  me! 

Too  plentiful  her  kind  you  say, 
The  miserable,  rank  mud-spray, 
Dashed  from  the  mad  wave  of  their  day, 
Tant  Pis. 

From  childhood  she  had  had  no  guide, 
Her  father  fought  for  France,  and  died, 
Her  mother,  but  a  year  old  bride, 

To  be 

Beside  him  followed,  and  then  came 
A  lonely  girlhood,  then — why  name 
The  bitter  hours  that  brought  her  shame, 

Tant  Pis. 

Enough  that  when  I  met  her,  gone 
Was  all  the  fragrant  blushing  dawn 
Of  modest  maidenhood,  and  on 

Julie, — 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  29 

That  was  the  name  men  knew  her  by — 
Despair  had  settled,  like  a  sky 
Opaqued  with  clouds  her  life,  you  sigh 

Tant  Pis 

For  this  poor  painted  chaos,  well 
'Twas  sad,  for  still  within  her  Hell 
Sometimes  she  dreamed  of  Heaven;  they  tell 

How  she 

When  once  a  man  to  gain  her  grace, 
Said,  "Pure  wives  envy  you  your  place," 
Made  answer  with  a  tear-stained  face, 

"Tant  Pis.'1 

Her  life  nigh  gone,  companions  sent 
For  Rome's  absolving  sacrament, 
The  good  priest  said,  "Ah,  girl,  repent, 

And  see 

A  new  life  dawn  on  you  through  faith;" 
But  wearied  out,  just  at  her  death, 
She  whispered  low  with  her  last  breath, 

"Tant  Pis.1' 


30  DRAMATIC    POEMS 


THE  PALACE  OF  DEAD  HOPES 

IN  lands  of  mist  and  mystery  and  phosphorescent 
light, 
A  sentry  ghost  treads  up  and  down  and  guards  by 

day  and  night, 

The  Palace  of  Dead  Hopes  that  once  seemed  fair  to 
human  sight. 

A  palace  built  of  frozen  tears  that  fell  from  baby  eyes, 
Upon  the  border-land  of  Time,  when  fresh  from 

Paradise 
They  opened  at  the  dawn  of  pain,  and  opening  were 

made  wise. 

There  lie  in  state  the  Hopes,  that  once  made  music 

and  made  mirth, 

Upon  the  everlasting  fair  adorable  green  earth, 
Some  old  and  wrinkled,  some  that  drew  their  last 
breath  at  their  birth. 

Some  died  poor  weaklings  and  the  music  in  their 

hearts  was  dumb, 
And  some  from  overpraise  went  mad,  and  ah!  alas,  for 

some, 
The  taper-lights  had  flickered  out  and  dawn  had  not 

yet  come. 

Pale  Peace  that  claimed  them  left  for  gift  their 

memories  behind, 
A  fragrance  faint  that  lingers  still  around  Life's  weary 

mind, 
Balm-giving  as  rose  odors  on  a  summer's  dewy  wind. 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  31 

Down  to  that  palace,  came  from  where  the  seasons  hold 

their  sway, 
With  mien  of  stiff-kneed  uprightness  and  dressed  in 

drabbled  gray, 
A  ghastly  spectre,  pale,  with  eyes  that  lacked  the 

light  of  day. 

At  its  approach  a  challenge  fell  upon  the  misty  air — 
A  challenge  from  the  sentry  ghost,  "Halt!  answer  who 

goes  there". 
"My  name  is  Doubt,"  the  spectre  said,  "the  brother 

of  Despair." 

« 
"I  know  ye  not!  What  seek  ye  here  upon  this  holy 

ground?" 
Replied  the  ghost;  a  silence  fell,  then  through  the 

silence,  sound, 
' '  The  face  of  my  great  foe  I  seek,  say,  may  he  here 

be  found?" 

"Advance  no  further  till  ye  give  his  name,"  the 

sentry  said. 
"The  Hope  of  Immortality,"  moaned  Doubt  with 

bended  head; 
Quick  answer  came,  "Begone,  thank  God  that  Hope 

is  not  yet  dead." 


32  DRAMATIC    POEMS 

A  WEATHERCOCK 

A  WEATHERCOCK  perched  on  an  old  church 
spire 
Aloft  and  alone;  far  below 
The  world  followed  Duty  or  blind  Desire, 
Around  were  the  free  winds  that  blow. 
(From  where  they  will  come  who  can  know?) 

For  years  like  a  stoic  he  held  his  stand, 
And  felt  the  warm  sunshine  or  snow, 

North,  south,  east,  or  west  he  was  forced  or  fanned, 
Around  by  the  free  winds  that  blow. 
(From  where  they  will  come  who  can  know?) 

The  bashful  new  moon  he  had  seen  on  high, 

Like  Love's  shining  shoulder  aglow, 
Emerge  from  an  ocean  of  deep  blue  sky, 
Unveiled  by  the  free  winds  that  blow. 
(From  where  they  will  come  who  can  know?) 

But  never  the  weathercock's  heart  was  stirred, 

By  aught  that  the  seasons  could  show, 
Till  out  of  the  darkness  a  haunting  word 

Was  brought  by  the  free  winds  that  blow. 
(From  where  they  will  come  who  can  know?) 

And  lo!  where  the  east  by  the  west  is  met, 

Were  lilies  of  fire  bending  low 
Before  the  wan  face  of  divine  Regret, 

Sharp  stung  by  the  free  winds  that  blow, 
(From  where  they  will  come  who  can  know?) 

And  since  then,  blow  whither  it  will  the  wind, 
The  weathercock  turns  to  and  fro, 

Unsatisfied,  aching  again  to  find 

That  face,  in  the  free  winds  that  blow, 
(From  where  they  will  come  who  can  know?) 


DRA  M  ATI  C    POEM  S  33 


A  SCARECROW 

A  SCARECROW,  in  a  field  of  corn, 
Stood  broken  down,  well  nigh, 
But  through  the  sunshine  or  the  rain, 
His  face  still  faced  the  sky. 

The  ravens  filled  with  strange  alarm, 

Flew  by  with  startled  cry, 
When  seeing  'tween  his  wind-tossed  arms 

His  face  still  faced  the  sky. 

But  once  a  dove  from  out  a  wood 

Came  cooing  forth  a  sigh, 
Now,  though  the  scarecrow  yearned  for  love, 

His  face  still  faced  the  sky. 

And  so  he  missed  the  love  he  sought, 

And  soon  he  drooped  to  die, 
Unheeded,  broken,  on  the  ground, 

His  face  still  faced  the  sky. 

The  dove  a  mate  soon  found,  indeed, 

Why  should  she  longer  try 
To  win  the  scarecrow  fallen  low? 

His  face  still  faced  the  sky. 

She  took  his  heart  of  withered  straw, 

To  line  her  nest  near  by, 
And  scarcely  noticed  as  she  passed, 

His  face  still  faced  the  sky. 


34  DRAMATIC    POEMS 


A  MAID  O'  THE  MIST 

A  FAIR  maid  of  the  mist, 
That  no  mortal  had  kissed, 
Fell  in  love  with  the  Man-in-the-Moon, 
And  beside  the  great  sea, 
In  the  night,  plaintively, 
Sang  him  this,  to  a  tear-laden  tune. 

"With  the  fullness  of  sorrow  my  soul  is  oppressed, 
And  I  long  for  your  valleys  and  caves, 

Where  the  sound  of  men  striving  disturbs  not  your  rest, 
Tramping  down  through  the  mire  to  their  graves." 

"Lift  me  up  then  and  comfort  me,  take  me,  I  pray, 
To  your  arms,  to  your  heart,  lonely  king, 

And  in  caverns  we'll  hide  from  the  fierce  glare  of  day, 
And  at  night  on  the  mountains  we'll  sing." 

"With  the  joy  that  is  born  of  a  pure  love  fulfilled, 
All  my  soul  shall  be  thrilled  through  and  through, 

When  as  day-dawn  approaches,  the  night  winds  all 

stilled, 
I  shall  sink  into  slumber  by  you." 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice, 

Did  his  lone  heart  rejoice, 
Did  he  yearningly  whisper,  "My  own;" 

Round  his  home  in  the  sky, 

Where  the  Dream-angels  fly, 
He  engirdled  a  gold  woven  zone. 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  35 

And  sent  down  from  his  height, 

A  frail  ladder  of  light, 
Made  from  quivering  beams  of  a  star, 

Then  from  earth  the  maid  passed, 

Nor  a  backward  look  cast, 
To  the  moon's  lonely  regions  afar. 

The  old  Ocean  alone 

Saw  her  go,  and  made  moan, 
Aye,  and  follows  her  still  with  its  tide, 

For  its  waves  stretch  their  hands 

To  the  far  away  lands, 
Of  the  Man-in-the-Moon  and  his  bride. 

In  that  land  of  dead  fires, 

Is  she  past  all  desires, 
Has  her  heart  touched  its  uttermost  scope? 

And  so  far  from  earth's  woes, 

Is  there  perfect  repose, 
In  a  calm,  above  Fear,  beyond  Hope? 


36  DRAMATIC    POEMS 


A  CRUCIFIED  CUPID 

WHEN  roses  and  forget-me-nots 
And  lilies  shed  perfume, 
And  in  the  hedges  round  the  plots, 
The  nests  were  in  full  bloom ; 

When  every  spear  of  grass  was  dipped 

In  a  nepenthe  bowl, 
And  fleecy  clouds,  with  wings  undipped, 

Coquetted  with  the  Soul; 

Prince  Cupid's  little  sweetheart  came 

Within  dull  sorrow's  ken, 
And  thought  she  only  had  to  name 

Her  name  to  maids  and  men, 

And  then,  the  verdant  earth  would  seem 

As  fair  as  Heaven  afar, 
And  round  each  life  a  peace  would  gleam, 

Like  glory  round  a  star. 

The  thought  of  what  had  been,  would  be 

As  discord  to  a  tune, 
And  hearts,  as  free  as  is  the  sea, 

Would  turn  to  her,  their  moon. 

The  beauty  then  of  Holiness, 

Be  manifest  indeed, 
The  holiness  of  Beauty,  less 

A  fancy,  more  a  creed. 

The  struggling  soul,  in  manhood's  breast, 

Would  never  meet  mishap, 
But  when  tired  out  would  sink  to  rest, 

In  neighbor  Nature's  lap. 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  37 

Alas!  Alack!  poor  little  thing, 

On  gentle  errand  bent, 
With  music  of  the  spheres  to  sing, 

And  quick  with  good  intent. 

How  could  she  know  that  Lust  was  here, 

With  subtle,  scheming  mind, 
Begemmed  and  jewelled  with  many  a  tear 

Wrung  from  deceived  mankind. 

When  she  came  here,  he  whispered,  "Vain 

Is  all  she  has  to  say, 
The  rose  will  fade,  the  thorn  remain, 

Drink  deep  then  while  ye  may." 

And  man  deluded,  anger  stirred, 

Crushed  down  his  half  regrets, 
And,  "Crucify  her!"  was  the  word, 

"On  stacked  up  bayonets." 

Tormented  by  her  pleading  voice, 

With  ruthless  hands  they  slew 
The  babe,  that  said,  "O  men,  rejoice, 

The  good  you  see  is  true." 

And  there  with  outstretched  wings  she  hung, 

Her  curls  a  golden  grace, 
Around  the  pitying  smile  that  clung 

Like  dew  to  her  dead  face. 

Since  that  sore  day  Prince  Cupid  flies, 

An  arrow  in  his  hand, 
And  smites  with  pain,  that  never  dies, 

The  children  of  the  land. 


38  DRA  M  ATI  C    POEMS 


ROMANCE 

WITH  music,  with  mirth,  and  with  gladness, 
Young  Summer  arose  from  her  lair; 
Arrayed  in  bright  sunshine  and  shadows, 
She  sauntered  across  the  green  meadows, 
And  fastened  a  rose  in  her  hair. 

From  woods  where  the  winds  sing  of  sadness 

Lone  Autumn  beheld  her  and  sighed; 
Then  ran  to  her,  caught  her,  carressed  her, 
And  called  her  his  own  as  he  pressed  her, 
She  smiled  on  him  once  and  so  died. 

To  him  came  an  infinite  sorrow, 

And  by  her  he  laid  himself  low; 
Then  Winter  came  down  from  the  mountains, 
And  seeing  them  hushed  all  the  fountains, 

And  covered  them  over  with  snow. 

Beside  them  he  watched  till  one  morrow 
The  child  Spring  came  fresh  as  a  wave; 

And  when  she  had  heard  their  sad  story, 

Child-like  for  a  space  she  felt  sorry, 

Then  planted  snowdrops  on  their  grave. 


DRAM  A  TIC    POEMS  39 


REWARD 

TWO  women  loved  a  scholar  all  his  days, 
A  man  whose  soul  was  filled  with  dreams  of 
peace, 

A  man  to  whom  the  world  and  all  its  ways 
Were  empty  babble  that  ere  long  must  cease. 

One  woman's  life  was  pure  as  drifted  snow, 
The  other's,  soiled  like  snow  that  men  have  trod; 
One  only  knew  through  joy  the  power  of  woe, 
The  other  felt  outcast  from  man  and  God. 

One  springtime,  when  the  violet  veil  of  morn 
Was  lifted  .from  the  opening  eyes  of  day, 
Upon  the  hope  that  with  our  life  is  born, 
The  scholar's  soul  in  silence  went  away. 

Within  a  year,  the  pure  maid  gave  her  heart 
Unto  a  husband,  and  found  Love's  sweet  grace; 
The  other  from  the  whole  world  drew  apart, 
And  prays  some  day  to  see  the  scholar's  face. 


40  DRA  M  AT  I  C    POEMS 


T 


THE  PRICE  OF  A  SONG 

HOUGH  he  lived  in  a  tenement  house, 
Yet  the  flooring  he  trod  on  up  there, 
Was  the  ceiling  that  others  below, 

Looked  aloft  to  in  doubt  and  despair. 


He  had  sung  of  the  fields  and  the  flowers, 

Of  the  dusk  and  the  dawn  and  mid-day, 
Of  the  star-beams  embroid'ring  the  sky, 
Of  the  sea  where  the  waves  are  at  play. 

Yet  for  all  of  his  songs  he  had  starved, 
And  he  cried  in  despair,  "Oh,  renew, 

God,  my  strength,  to  bid  men  lift  their  eyes 
To  the  fair  face  of  Truth,  bathed  in  dew." 

And  a  thought,  like  a  wave  on  the  shore, 

Seemed  to  rush  o'er  his  mind,  parched  and  dry, 

A  command,  as  it  were,  Duty  gave, 
To  interpret  the  city's  hoarse  cry. 

So  he  wrote  a  great  soul  stirring  song, 

From  the  jumble  and  jar  of  the  street, 

From  the  whirring  of  unceasing  wheels, 
And  the  onrush  of  unresting  feet. 

And  the  meaning  of  Life  was  made  clear, 

Why  the  struggle  is  needed  for  strength, 

And  a  haven  of  Love  hove  in  sight, 

Where  the  restless  shall  find  rest  at  length. 

Then  the  multitude  crowded  to  crown 

The  poor  poet,  unnoticed  till  then, 
But  they  found,  ere  they  came,  watchful  Death 

From  his  fingers  had  taken  the  pen. 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  41 

And  the  mandate  again  was  fulfilled, 

Old  as  Hope's  baby  whispers  of  Heaven, 

That  before  a  new  song  can  be  sung, 

For  that  song  first  a  life  must  be  given. 


A  TRAGEDY 

FAR  away  in  Palestine, 
A  young  vine, 
Round  a  stately  cedar  pine 
Sough  to  twine, 

And  she  whispered,  "I  am  thine, 
Let  me  in  thy  arms  recline, 
I  will  give  the  sacred  wine 
For  the  Shrine." 

But,  where  waves  and  winds  combine, 

His  design, 
In  bright  glory's  light  to  shine 

Was;  in  fine, 

He  said,  "Thou  wilt  ne'er  be  mine, 
My  top-peak  shall  fly  the  sign 
Of  a  ship  in  battle-line 

On  the  brine." 

Ere  the  year  was  in  decline, 

A  malign 
Cruel  Fate  cut  short  repine; 

With  cold  eyne, 

Said  unto  the  tree  "Now  whine, 
Thou  shalt  be  a  yoke  for  Kine, 
And  on  her  lo!  there  shall  dine 

Unclean  Swine." 


42  DRAMATIC    POEMS 


AN  ODD  MAN 

5OME  day  as  down  the  street 
I  walk  with  idle  feet, 
We  two  again  shall  meet 
Face  unto  face. 
Shall  all  that  made  a  beam 
In  our  eyes  to  us  seem 
Banished  as  is  a  dream 
Off  into  space? 

Shall  then  a  glad  surprise 
Light  up  each  other's  eyes 
As  if  a  Paradise 

Opened  to  view? 
And  as  the  glad  tears  start 
Shall  heart  then  say  to  heart, 
Though  we  have  been  apart 

Each  has  been  true? 

What  though  the  eyes  have  kept 
Vigils,  and  long  have  wept, 
Into  their  depths  has  crept 

Clearer  insight ; 

What  we  would,  what  we  could, 
Then  shall  be  understood, 
Doubt  and  its  sorry  brood, 

Taken  to  flight. 


D  RA  MAT  I  C    POEMS  43 

Or,  with  averted  gaze, 
Thinking  of  other  days, 
Shall  we  pass  on  our  ways, 

From  dusk  to  dawn? 
Shall  then  no  word  be  said 
Save  that  all  hope  is  fled, 
And  Love  the  King  is  dead, 

Let  him  sleep  on? 

Natheless  which  way  it  be 
Pregnant  for  you  and  me 
With  mirth  or  misery 

Boundless  as  space, 
Some  day  as  down  the  street 
I  walk  with  idle  feet, 
We  two  again  shall  meet 

Face  unto  face. 


44  DRA  MA  T I  C    POEMS 


PASSERS-BY 

A  TEA  leaf  and  a  poppy  leaf 
Were  caught  in  Love's  delight, 
A  child  of  cheer,  a  foe  of  grief — 
A  Tea  leaf  and  a  poppy  leaf — 
A  cycle  of  the  joys  in  brief 

That  lie  in  day  and  night; 
A  tea  leaf  and  a  Poppy  leaf 

Were  caught  in  Love's  delight. 

A  Wraith  of  steam,  a  puff  of  smoke 
Went  drifting  down  the  street, 
And  turned  to  tears  and  grimy  coke — 
A  wraith  of  steam,  a  Puff  of  smoke — 
A  woman  with  her  poor  heart  broke 

Beneath  Sin's  sooty  feet; 
A  wraith  of  steam,  a  puff  of  smoke 
Went  drifting  down  the  street. 

A  High  thought  and  a  low  thought, 

A  gulf  immense  between, 
What  wonderful  white  devil  brought 
A  high  thought  and  a  Low  thought 
Together,  by  a  web  that  caught 

The  heart  of  Beauty's  queen; 
With  a  high  thought,  a  low  thought, 

A  gulf  immense  between. 


DRAMATIC    POEMS  45 


FROM   FIRST  TO  LAST 

GOOD  MORNING 

AH!  Good  morning!  Clear  sky! 
Long  the  way  I  must  go; 
Yes,  the  mountain  is  high, 
But,  good  morning,  clear  sky, 
Must  surmount,  and  must  try, 

The  crowd  travel  too  slow; 
So,  good  morning;  clear  sky; 

Long  the  way  I  must  go. 


GOOD  NIGHT 


AH!  Good  night!  Glad  we  met; 
On  the  valley  lies  mist, 
Those  behind  I  regret, 
But,  good  night,  glad  we  met, 
It  was  worth  all  the  fret 

To  be  once  by  you  kissed ; 
So,  good  night;  glad  we  met, 
On  the  valley  lies  mist. 


BEAUTY'S  LADY 

A  SONNET  SEQUENCE 


ffitf 


BEAUTY'S  LADY 

A  SONNET  SEQUENCE 


BEAUTY'S  LADY 

Spring  came  and  smiled  and 

behold  I  saw  you; 
Love  held  to  my  lips  then  a  clear  cup 

of  dew, 
It  gathered  at  dawn  where  the  white 

lilies  grew,  _  ,    . 

Beauty  s  Lady. 

Revealed  to  my  senses  then  incarnate  Good, 

In  infinite  majesty  modestly  stood, 

And  moulded  my  soul  to  a  sweet  solemn  mood, 

Beauty's  Lady. 

As  stray  chicks  of  song  seek  the  mother-bird  tune, 
The  hopes  of  my  heart  heard  a  comforting  croon 
And  'neath  your  Soul's  wings  nestled  down  in  a  swoon, 

Beauty's  Lady. 

I  saw  you  and  faded  dreams  blossomed  again, 

A  new  sense  of  power  stirred  with  life  in  my  brain, 

For  excess  of  joy  it  bit  back  the  birth  pain, 

Beauty's  Lady. 

49 


50  BE  A  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y 

A  new  sense  of  power  with  flame  wings  to  aspire, 
And  light  on  the  mountain  tops  beacons  of  fire, 
To  flash  forth  glad  tidings  of  holy  desire, 

Beauty's  Lady. 

I  heard  you,  and  fresh  from  Sound's  limitless  sea, 
A  message  was  blown  of  the  Truth  that  makes  free, 
With  clear  undertones  of  divine  Sympathy, 

Beauty's  Lady. 

A  message  of  Love  that  is  able  to  scan 
The  oneness  of  all  in  God's  wonderful  plan 
Of  matter  and  melody  mingled  in  man, 

Beauty's  Lady. 

I  touched  you,  and  into  my  soul's  prison  pen 
It  seemed  Light  itself  became  audible  then 
And  Song  shone  as  Sunshine  to  me  of  all  men, 

Beauty's  Lady. 

Ah,  Springtime  of  Women!  ah,  lark  throat  of  Song! 
Be  near  me  in  spirit  the  whole  season  long, 
That  my  life  like  yours  may  be  pure,  simple,  strong, 

Beauty's  Lady. 


BEAUT  Y'  S    LAD  Y  51 


AN  EPISODE 

A  DAY-DREAM  led  me  forth  from  Mammon's 
mart 
To  where  was  breathing  space,  and  pointed 

to 

The  promise  of  the  Spring  fulfilled  in  you, 
The  home  of  Truth  on  Beauty's  vernal  chart, 
I  lingered  by  the  fireside  of  your  heart 

To  warm  the  chilled  sense  of  my  soul,  numbed 

through 

By  fogs  of  Sin,  and  cold  Neglect's  dank  dew, 
And  biting  winds  blown  thwart  the  peaks  of  Art. 
Songs  that  the  poet  hears  but  never  sings 

Cheered  me,  and  in  the  intervals,  deep  glooms 
Of  Silence,  incense-laden  from  the  blooms 
Of  God,  lulled  me  with  restful  offerings, 
I  was  made  strong  and  happy — yet 
Since  then  my  soul  has  known  a  vague  regret. 


52  BEA  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y 


A  VISION 

CLOSER  than  clasp  of  flesh,  my  eyes  embraced 
A  Vision  strayed  from  God's  anointed  place, 
With  midnight  hair  brushed  back  from 

Morning's  face, 

With  Spring's  glad  confidence  in  clear  lines  traced 
Around  her  mouth  and  eyes,  from  neck  to  waist 
A  holy  casket  for  a  heart  of  grace, 
With  lithe  limbs  anxious,  for  a  fleeting  space, 
To  follow  footprints  that  the  glad  gods  paced. 
And  when  she  spoke,  it  seemed  the  breath  of  Dawn 
Blew  back  the  curtains  of  the  tent  of  Dreams, 
Who  saw  my  prostrate  soul  and  crystal  beams 
Of  Love's  own  light  in  pity  shed  thereon. 

Merciless  Fate!  mysterious  and  unknown, 
Why  came  that  Vision  to  this  heart  of  stone? 


BEAUTY1  S    LAD  Y  53 


THE  WANDERING  JEW 

CROSS-BURDENED,  faint,  and  thorn-crowned, 
The  Great  Man 
Asked  from  a  Jewish  cobbler  place  to  rest, 
Before  he  reached  the  lonely  barren  crest 
Of  self-renunciation,  but  the  wan 

Sweet  lips  were  answered  with,  "Move  on." — Then  an 
Offended  God  decreed  thus,  "Be  oppressed 
And  wander  Jew  forever  toward  the  West, 
Mocked  by  the  sunset  Peace  you  can  but  scan." — 
When  Truth's  ubiquitous  white  wings  had  brushed 
The  forehead  of  my  soul  in  search  of  place 
To  rest  in,  did  I  welcome  it  apace, 
Or  was  its  voice  in  passion's  tempest  hushed? 
Ah,  Lady  of  the  dawnrise,  dreams  and  dew, 
You  are  God's  Peace,  my  heart  The  Wandering 
Jew. 


54  BEAUTY'  S    LAD  Y 


WHICH? 

WHEN  Dusk  has  spread  his  tent  where  Day 
had  been, 
And  Nature's  altar  lamps  are  trimmed 

anew, 

When  from  the  folded  wings  of  Strife,  the  dew 
Of  tears  repentant  wipes  the  dust  of  Sin, 
In  such  an  hour,  shall  she  come  calmly  in 

And  lay  her  lips  on  mine  and  kiss  me?    Through 
That  kiss  shall  I  not  wholly  know  the  true 
Beatitude  of  Love,  Life  prays  to  win? 
Then  all  the  tangled  chords  of  troubled  Care 

Shall  fall  from  off  my  soul,  set  free  through  her, 
Together  we  shall  breathe  the  open  air 

Of  Truth,  I  too  like  her  its  worshipper; 
Ah,  God!  must  this  not  be?  but  with  quick  breath 
Sharp  on  my  mouth  instead  the  kiss  of  Death? 


BEAUTY'S    LADY  55 


THE  TORTURE  CHAMBER 

WITHIN  a  castle,  that  a  poor  fool  built 
In  empty  idle  hours,  on  Time's  syrtis 
Skirting  the  seas  of  two  eternities, 
There  is  a  chamber,  opened  by  the  hilt 
Of  poignant  Sorrow,  where  Hope's  blossoms  wilt 
In  the  numb  vacuum  of  Passion's  kiss, 
And  where  are  seen  dead  dreams  that  went 

amiss, 

And  gaping  wounds  in  Feelings  slain  by  Guilt. 
Faint  strains  of  phantom  music's  Might-have-been 
Float  from  the  curtains  of  the  Past's  gray  pall, 
And  in  the  centre  on  a  pedestal 
Of  Peace,  lit  up  by  glory  from  within, 

The  Unattainable,  past  reaching  hands, 
A  Woman  like  a  Grecian  goddess  stands. 


56  BE  A  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y 


AN  ACCIDENT 

ACROSS  the  blue  star-tesselated  floor 
Of  Heaven,  once  a  Hope  in  wanton  play 
Danced  to  the  music  of  an  unblown  May, 
Behind  it  was  the  shining  pearl  door 
Through  which  again  it  entered  nevermore, 
For  suddenly  it  slipped  across  a  ray, 
Where  like  an  orange  rind  the  new  moon  lay 
Stripped  from  the  golden  age  in  days  of  yore. 
Down,  down  it  fell  into  my  heart  of  stone 
And  dug  itself  a  cave  wherein  to  hide 
Its  poor  frayed  wings  torn  at  its  bleeding  side 
And  smother  Memory's  unceasing  moan. 

Outside  its  door  I  lay  my  Life,  and  wait 
The  final  issue  of  the  work  of  Fate. 


BEA  UTY'S    LADY  57 


A  BANQUET 

FATE  led  me  to  a  banquet  hall  to  dine, 
A  wonderful  wide  overhanging  vault 
Walled  by  the  hills  of  burnished  steel  cobalt, 
And  bade  me  at  the  board  in  ease  recline, 
On  which,  clear  crystal  vessels  like  Eyes  shine 

On  cultured  dove-like  dreamings  without  fault, 
And  Words  of  wit  sharp  stung  with  Attic  salt, 
And  smiles  like  Omar  Khayyam's  vital  wine. 
I  might,  had  I  not  sued  the  gods  for  peace, 
And  sent  from  brazen  Duty's  altar-mesh, 
The  incense  of  the  sacrificial  flesh, 
Know  why  my  gnawing  soul  finds  no  surcease. 
Is  it  I  starve,  because  I  am  alone 
And  so  the  bread  of  Life  turns  to  a  stone? 


58  BE  A  UTY'  S    LAD  Y 


ECCE  HOMO 

THOUGH    Art    had    gently    lisped    its   polished 
phrase, 
And  tinkled  rhyme  bells  for  the  twinkling  feet 
Of  laughing  senses,  dancing  in  complete 
Security  of  uneventful  days, 
My  soul  heard  voices  calling  through  the  haze, 
And  fain  would  follow  them,  more  fain  would 

greet 

In  twilight  lands  its  One  Ideal  sweet, 
Where  murmuring  sound  intones  eternal  praise. 
What  stayed  its  flight,  flushed  flame  o'er  all  its  snow- 
White  longings,  and  gave  meanings  new 
To  old  ambitions,  bathed  with  tears  of  dew 
Its  opened  eyes  to  Beauty  here  below — 

God's  Kingdom  come  on  earth  as  'tis  above? 
This — Passion's  parched  throat  gasping  out,  "I 
love." 


BEA  UTY'S    LADY  59 


SPRING 

IRD  calls,  and  quick  breath  from  Earth's  parted 

lips, 

Half-startled  glances  from  expectant  eyes 
Peering  from  cloud-lids  in  uncertain  skies, 
As  Nature  lashes  laggard  gloom  with  whips 
Of  rain,  and  from  her  lap  lets  fall  cowslips 

And  crocuses,  so  great  her  haste,  she  cries 
To  every  living  thing,  "Awake!  arise!" 
And  laughs  till  tears  gleam  at  their  frightened  quips. 
Then  sudden  promptings  from  eternal  Joy 

Pulse  through  my  veins,  and  vaguely  prophesy 
The  coming  of  the  Mate  the  deathless  boy 

In  me  awaits — She,  Beauty's  Lady! — my 
Full  meaning  set  to  an  ecstatic  tune 
Beneath  the  pure  rays  of  God's  love-lit  moon. 


60  BEAUTY'  S    LADY 


A  FAR  CRY 

ENEATH  the  verdured  mounds  that  Time  had 

left, 

Like  broken  hearts  of  impotent  despair, 
On  Asiatic  deserts  wide  and  bare, 
The  searchers  found  when  they  had  keenly  cleft 
The  dross  of  ages,  sculptures  strong  and  deft, 

Wherein  Assyrian  dreams  from  stones  still  stare, 
And  tear-phials  iridescent  for  the  fair 
Forgotten  Gods  of  worshippers  bereft. 
Should  Beauty's  Lady  search  my  life,  forgot 
As  quite  as  Sargon's  cities  by  the  mass, 
Would  she  find  underneath  the  peasant  grass 
A  few  frail  humble  deeds  and,  'neath  a  blot 

Of  blood,  pale  dreams  of  Freedom  faintly  drawn 
Around  a  heart  with  her  face  stamped  thereon? 


BEA  UT  Y'  S    LA  D  Y  61 


MORNING 

A  HUSH,  as  though  Life  held  its  breath,  a  red 
Quick  sudden  palpitating  flame,  a  brand 
Flung  headlong  through  the  darkness,  a 

command 

For  Dreams  to  wing  their  way  unto  the  dead, 
And  then  the  finger-tips  of  Dawn  are  spread 
In  benediction  o'er  the  list'ning  land, 
And  underneath  its  tremulous  white  hand 
The  laughing  Sun  shakes  loose  his  golden  head. 
A  rush  of  wings  upon  the  perfumed  air, 

A  burst  of  song  from  jubilant  blithe  birds, 
A  silver  whisper  of  immortal  words 
As  Nature  kneels  in  thanksgiving  and  prayer, 
And  Beauty's  Lady  lifts  her  love-lit  eyes 
To  shed  on  Earth  the  light  of  Paradise. 


62  BEA  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y 


NOON 

A  PULSE  of  Silence  in  the  thunder  roar 
Of  volumed  sound   from  rushing  waters 
vast, 
Soft  scented  silence  in  the  vales  o'ercast 

By  brooding  hills,  that  watch  the  eagles  soar 

In  effortless  abandon  at  the  core 

Of  silence  deep  within  the  viewless  blast, 
Primeval  silence  in  dark  shadows  massed, 

And  silence  in  the  Sun's  full-orbed  outpour. 

And  underneath  a  veil  of  shimmering  haze 

With  mirth  and  might  and  melody  bedight, 
And  on  her  face  the  glow  of  Wisdom's  light, 

Enthroned  in  golden  glory  beyond  praise, 
Lo!  Beauty's  Lady,  radiantly  calm, 
The  still  small  voice  in  Nature's  silent  psalm. 


BEAUTY'  S    LAD  Y  63 


MIDNIGHT 

WHITE  fields  of  lilies  stretching  to  the  west, 
Wind  swept  and  waving  on  their  stately 
stems, 
White  draperies  of  cloud  with  silver  hems 

The  banished  gods  trail  over  the  blue  breast 

Of  heaven,  white  lipped  moaning  seas  in  quest 
Of  peace,  white  scintillating  starry  gems 
Dropped  from  the  rebel  angel's  diadems, 

White  moon-light  over  all  with  awe  oppressed. 

And  in  the  centre,  blending  all  to  one 

Great  living  word  of  Light — the  sound  whereof — 
Another  name  for  God,  for  God  is  Love, — 

Fills  all  things  full  of  meaning  dreamed  or  done, 
Stands  Beauty's  Lady,  of  them  yet  apart, 
The  blush  of  Morning  at  the  Midnight's  heart. 


64  BEAUTY'SLADY 


SHADOWS 

5HADOWS  like  cyphers  brand  her  brows  most 
wise; 
Shadows  upon  her  temples  like  dim  pools 
Of  peaceful  rest,  wherein  the  glad  blood  cools 
Its  longings;  shadows  trembling  with  surprise, 
Like  falling  drops  of  song  from  Paradise, 

Around  her  mouth — that  speaks  the  word  that 

rules 

The  life  of  him  the  most  blessed  of  God's  fools — 
And  shadows,  dusky  dream-moths,  round  her  eyes. 
Then  over  all,  a  shadow  of  deep  awe 

And  calm  abiding  full-fledged  wonderment, 
As  though  to  her  the  Living  One  had  bent 
And  whispered  the  love  secret  of  His  law; 

These  are  the  Shadows  in  My  Lady's  face, 

The  Lights — ah!  words  could  never  dimly  trace. 


BEAUT  Y'  S    LAD  Y  65 


WHISPERS 

WHISPERS  among  the  little  flirting  leaves; 
Whispers  as  gloaming  trails  across  the 
grass; 

Illumined  whispers  as  the  fire  flies  pass; 

Aeolian  harps  of  moonbeams  one  conceives 

Make  whisp'ring  music,  for  no  shadow  grieves 
But  dances  lightly  with  a  drinking  glass 
Brimful  of  dew,  and  to  recall  what  was 

The  sea-shells  whisper  sighs  old  ocean  heaves. 

Like  to  a  sweet  warm  breath,  strange  whispers  cling 
Around  my  heart  of  Immortality 
To-night,  when  with  the  minds'  eye,  I  can  see 

The  lily  light  to  me  of  everything, 

Dear  Beauty's  Lady  sent  to  tempt  the  soul, 
Melodious  whisper  of  God's  perfect  whole. 


66  BEAUTY'  S    LADY 


A  DREAM 

NAY,  but  remembering  I  faint!  I  swoon! 
The  eyes  like  mem'ries  of  the  sea  sun  kissed, 
The  marble  brow  crowned  with  a  dusky 
twist 

Of  hair  coiled  down  to  rest  like  some  dream  tune, 
The  mouth — Love's  Majesty  describe  as  soon — 
The  supple  limbs,  like  liquid  amethyst, 
Draped  in  diaphanous  wan  woven  mist 
Clasped  by  the  crescent  of  a  crystal  moon. 
So  in  my  sleep  she  seemed  to  lean  to  me, 

Until  her  breath  my  eyelids  filtered  through 
And  filled  my  eyes  with  warm  translucent  dew 
From  God's  green  blossom  of  Virginity — 

Thereat  I  woke  and  smothered  down  a  sigh 
And  cried — no!     She  may  hear  that  by  and  by. 


BEAUT  Y'  S    LAD  Y  67 


THE  TORNADO'S  HEART 

TNTO  his  inmost  heart  a  Zephyr  crept, 

The  heart  of  a  Tornado,  nor  felt  she 
*-         One  whit  of  fear,  nay  rather  felt  she  free, 
In  free-will's  sense  to  God's  will,  on  she  swept 
O'er  death  and  desolation,  as  he  leapt 
O'er  lands  and  landmarks  of  futility 
And  ploughed  up  furrows  in  the  virgin  sea 
And  dashed  defiance  at  the  stars  that  kept 
Unmoved  their  calm.     When  his  wild  strength  was 

gone, 

Titanic  effort  grappling  with  despair — 
The  opening  of  new  fields  of  living'air 
For  neighbor  Nature  in  her  robes  of  dawn — 

Why  then,  the  Zephyr  gently  whispered — "Rest, " 
And  laid  his  worked-out  heart  upon  her  breast. 


68  BE  A  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y 


SUMMER 

ABROAD  smile  from  the  heaven's  placid  face 
Falls  on  the  full  blown  roses;  lilies  nod 
In  drowsy  day-dreams  to  the  velvet  shod 
Quiescent  Hours  that  loiter  for  a  space 
Across  the  perfume-laden  resting  place 

Of  Nature,  where  knee-deep  in  flow'ring  sod 
She  hums  unbonneted  her  songs  to  God, 
Beneath  the  green  flag  of  harmonious  Grace. 
Then  in  my  heart  a  sense  of  boundless  power 
Broods  o'er  a  vision  of  supreme  delight, 
Nestled  within  a  rainbow-woven  bower, 

And  yearns  to  gather  all  its  unknown  might 
Into  one  tender,  passionate  sweet 
White  deed  of  love  to  lay  at  Beauty's  feet. 


BEAUT  Y'  S    LAD  Y  69 


IN  THE  WOODS 

DAPPLED  with  leafy  shadows,  fawn-like 
Dreams 
Roam  o'er  the  dim  horizon  of  her  mind, 
Save  now  and  then  one  lingereth  behind, 
To  quench  its  thirst  within  the  limpid  streams 
Of  light  from  her  pure  eyes,  Mirth's  sparkling  beams 
The  spell  of  rime-frost  from  her  brow  unbind 
For  wild-bloom  thoughts  to  blush  there;  Love's 

lips  wind 

The  horn  of  Hope  her  soul  inspired  it  seems. 
Where'er  she  goes  her  fragrant  presence  has 

A  dignity  that  makes  base  things  depart, 
For  lisping  leaves  that  saw  Diana  pass 

Have  whispered  secrets  to  her  fearless  heart; 
Queen  of  Life's  forest,  careless  of  mishap, 
Where  mysteries  like  branches  overlap. 


70  BEAUT  F  '  S    LAD  Y 


TOGETHER 

TO  stars  in  Space's  opposite  extremes, 
One  pale  as  powdered  snow  on  violet, 
One  bright  as  blood  on  shining  steel  new 

wet, 

Move  through  a  sky  of  blue  ethereal  dreams 
Along  their  fate-swept  orbits,  crossed  by  gleams 
Of  other  yearning  stars  no  doubt,  and  yet 
Fulfilling  silently  the  word  Kismet, 
To  meet  and  mingle  into  one  their  beams. 
And  in  the  rapture  of  their  mutual  kiss, 

Coequals  crowned  with  consummation's  calm, 
Light  shall  mysteriously  become  a  psalm 
Of  infinitely  sweet  abounding  bliss, 

Love's  lost  chord — found  shall  ring  across  the 

sky 
Struck  from  the  mystic  diphthong — You  and  I. 


BEAUTY'SLADY  71 


FOREVER 

TWO  disembodied  spirits  pure  and  clear, 
Met  in  the  ether  atmosphere  of  There, 
Surpassing  Beauty's  dream  of  women  fair 
Was  one,  once  known  on  earth  as  Beauty's  Queen, 
The  other  was  the  contrast  seen  between 

Beauty  and  rugged  Strength,  but  why  compare 
Them,  she  had  strength  of  purpose  and  to  spare, 
Enough!  he  humbly  wore  an  honest  mien. 
Down,  bending  gently  as  a  zephyr  might, 

She  leaned  her  head  and  smiling  asked  of  him, — 
And  as  she  spoke  it  seemed  the  stars  grew  dim, — 
" Do  you  remember  what  you  said  last  night?" 

"Oh  yes,"  he  answered  and  rememb'ring  sighed, 
"I  love  you,  love  you,  love  you;  then  I  died." 


72  BEAUTY'  S    LADY 


PROSPECT 

IS  SHE  not  free  and  fearless,  she  to  whom 
My  soul  leaps  forth  and  gives  the  welcome 
sign, 

Come  as  a  guest  into  this  heart  of  mine, 
Come  with  the  gladness  of  the  Spring's  full  bloom, 
Come  in  the  garb  of  Beauty's  fairy  loom 

To  rule  with  Love,  and  point  me  to  the  shrine 

Of  Truth,  and  bring  the  blessed  bread  and  wine 
Of  Life,  and  claim  me  as  her  spirit's  groom? 
Shall  I  not  grow  complete  and  perfected 

Within  the  sunshine  of  her  peerless  eyes? 

Shall  I  not  know  the  calm  of  Paradise 
Within  the  shadow  of  her  thoughtful  head? 

Shall  not  my  being  become  deep  and  broad 

Beside  this  mystic  messenger  of  God? 


BEAUT  Y'  S    LAD  Y  73 


MY  AMBITION 

THE  end  of  my  ambition  is  but  this — 
To  be  in  body,  mind,  and  soul  alway 
A  humble,  earnest  worker,  deed  and  say 
And  thought  devoted  to  the  crowning  bliss 
Of  brotherhood  in  Beauty,  nor  amiss 

Take  aught  that  falls,  but  strenuously  pray 
That  from  that  end  my  feet  may  never  stray 
Nor  my  full  lips  be  turned  from  Duty's  Kiss. 
And  after  many  a  failure  and  mishap 

After  the  joybells  of  successful  hours, 
In  the  sweet  aftercalm  of  well  used  powers, 
To  lay  my  head  at  last  in  her  pure  lap, 

And  feel  the  brooding  blessing  of  the  eyes 
Of  Beauty's  Lady  on  my  calm  soul  lies. 


74  BEAUT  Y'  S    LAD  Y 


A  GLAD  DAY 

COME,  come  my  soul,  now  let  us  forth  and  leap, 
Dance,  swing  out  hand  in  hand  across  the 
grass, 

Skim  o'er  the  moor-lake  with  its  molten  mass 
Of  water-lilies  like  star  songs  asleep, 
Climb,  scramble  up  the  cliffs  that  safely  keep 

The  voice  of  love-lorn  Echo;  on  we  pass 

The  waterfall  like  liquid  braided  glass, 
And  breast  the  mountains  where  the  old  gods  weep. 
Up,  up,  we  strive  to  gain  their  exiled  place — 

Shall  not  our  tears,  to  rainbow  raiment  wove, 

Drape  their  cold  limbs  with  iridescent  Love 
And  bathe  the  lines  of  sorrow  from  each  face? — 

Now!  now  we  join  the  highest!  Shout  aloud! 

Jump  if  you  will  into  yon  opal  cloud! 


BEAUTY'  S    LADY  75 


REPOSE 

CALM,  wide-winged,  smiling  Peace  with  dream 
ing  eyes 
Sits  in  the  branches  of  the  tree  of  Life, 
Hushed  is  the  battle's  shrill  far-reaching  fife, 
Rest  like  dew-water  on  my  spirit  lies, 
For  clearly,  oh,  most  clearly  it  espies 

Far,  far  beyond  rememberance  of  strife, 
The  holy  couch  of  Love  with  gladness  rife 
And  burdened  with  the  pearl  of  Paradise. 
High  Hopes  like  stars  shine  in  the  bending  arch 
Of  fathomless,  undimmed  Infinity, 
And  through  the  air  a  clear  call  comes  to  me, 
"Onward  and  upward  to  fulfillment  march"; 
A  call  that  makes  the  man  in  me  rejoice, 
As  somehow  Beauty's  Lady  were  a  voice. 


76  BEA  UT  Y'  S    LADY 


A  DIVINE  COMEDY 

WHEN  Gloaming  climbs  the  hills  to  watch  the 
sun  Sail  off  into  the  downy  golden  west, 
When  friendly  birds  from  neighboring 

nest  to  nest 

In  twitt'ring  gossip  tell  what  has  been  done, 
When  silently  above  come  one  by  one 

The  stars  like  Heavenly  music's  notes  of  rest, 
Or  trickling  tears  of  light  shed  on  the  breast 
Of  Night,  stern  Nature's  consecrated  nun, 
My  wayward  spirit  finds  complete  repose 

Beside  the  smiling  soul  that  wears  a  crown 
Of  dew-gemmed  Beauty,  at  her  feet  it  throws 

The  burden  of  its  dreamings  lightly  down, 
And  in  emancipated  thought  can  see 
Within  Creation's  drama — Harmony. 


BEA  UT  Y'  S    LADY 


77 


EVEN  SO 

ECAUSE  her  lips  have  tasted  the  dank  foam 
That  crowns  the  bitter  cup  of  blood  red  pain, 
Because  alone  in  travail  she  has  lain 
With  sorrow  till  the  stars  pierced  heaven's  dome, 
Because  her  feet  have  bled  with  those  that  roam 
Along  the  flinty  path  to  spirit  gain, 
Because  come  weal  or  woe  she  still  was  fain 
To  make  in  Truth  her  everlasting  home, 
I  find  in  her  a  living  word  of  Hope, 

I  find  in  her  a  pulse  of  soulful  power, 
I  find  in  her  the  perfume  of  Life's  flower, 
I  love  her  with  my  whole  soul's  utmost  scope, 
I  stand  erect  and  glad  thanksgiving  give 
To  God,  and  pray,  as  she  so  I  may  live. 


78  BEA  UT  Y'  S    LADY 


COMFORT 

THE  odor  of  flower  censers  swung  in  May, 
Hangs  in  the  hush  of  harmony  that  dwells 
Around  my  Lady,  Queen  of  Asphodels, 
Crowning  the  garden  that  pure  souls  array; 
Her  eyes,  the  tenderness  of  yesterday 

Hold  in  their  liquid  depths,  and  sea  swung  bells 
Ring  in  her  voice  that  fearlessly  foretells 
The  future  rising  through  a  golden  spray. 
The  sense  of  human  kindness  in  her  touch 

Melts  the  hard  morsel  of  the  miser  Time, 
And  somehow  lifts  my  heart  up  into  such 

Unspeakable  delight,  it  hears  the  chime 
Of  Heaven's  min'ster  ring  the  welcome  hour 
When  rest  shall  fall  like  dew  upon  a  flower. 


BEAUTY'  S    LADY  79 


AUTUMN 

A  FARAWAY  look  in  the  eyes  of  day, 
The  muscles  of  the  sturdy  earth  stand  out 
In  strong  relief,  and  scattered  round  about 
Belated  flowers  recall  the  year's  first  gay, 
Glad  tidings;  Nature  watches  them  at  play 

From  underneath  her  brows  of  conquered  doubt, 
Forgetting  naught,  she  smiles  to  see  them  pout 
And  wither  as  she  stores  her  wealth  away. 
Then  clinging  feelings,  keen  and  kin  to  pain, 

Of  loneliness  in  Freedom,  send  a  thrill 
Through  the  ripe  vigour  of  my  hoarding  brain 

Counting  its  knowledge  o'er.  Ah !  all  is  chill 
Save  thoughts  of  Beauty's  Lady  where  she  seems 
The  harvest-moon  in  my  midnight  of  dreams. 


80  BE  A  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y 


IMPRESSIONS 

A  BLUR  of  pain,  like  autumn  leaves  awhirl 
Around  a  bare  tree  stretching  bony  hands 
Into  the  empty  air;  a  flash  of  wands, 
Like  rainbows  waved  by  Hope  before  the  churl 
Despair;  gray  ghosts  of  Dreams  that  dumbly  furl 
The  sails  of  Love  shipwrecked  upon  the  Sands 
Of  Time,  and  silently  coil  up  black  strands 
Of  hair  that  once  adorned  a  mermaid  girl ; 
And  to  the  sense  beyond  the  senses  ken, 
A  blaze  of  pleasure  in  a  sky  of  peace 
Flashing  from  out  a  central  sun;  surcease 
Of  time  and  space;  and  far  from  men 

An  opal  void  o'er  which  my  soul  has  leapt 
To — Stop!  see  tears,  for  joy  my  soul  has  wept. 


BE  A  UTY'SLADY  81 


JUST  AN  IDEA 

I  AM  possessed  by  an  Idea  now, 
My  every  deed  must  meet  approval 
From  her  smile  within  the  dream-lit  hall 
Of  Faith,  where  soul  to  soul  exchanges  vow 
Of  fealty,  and  kiss  lips,  eyelids,  and  brow 
As  symbol  of  the  Cross  on  which  we  call 
To  help  us,  guide  us,  lift  us  when  we  fall, 
And  lead  us  over  Sin's  absorbing  slough. 
Have  I  not  sung  her  perfect  body,  yea 

And  prayed  within  the  shadow  of  her  soul, 
Climbed  with  her  mind  in  loving-sweet  control 
Up  the  green  shaded  Academus'  way, 

Been  blessed  beholding  Duty  lay  his  lips 
On  Beauty's  stainless  shining  finger  tips. 


82  B  EA  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y 


FORCED  JOY 

FORTH  through  the  night  I  force  my  ebon  way 
With  close-clenched  brows,  and  firm-set 
peering  eyes, 

Alone  with  my  Idea,  pearl  and  prize 
I  captured  in  the  thickest  of  the  fray, 
And  hold  against  my  heart  fronting  dismay, 
And  doubt,  and  Death,  that  vainly  tries 
To  take  her  from  me  to  some  Paradise 
Of  equable  tame  uneventful  day — 
Bah !  while  a  conscious  entity  am  I 

We  never  shall  be  severed  or  apart! 
Can  I  not  feel  her  lips  upon  my  heart 
Melting  its  strain  with  dewy  sympathy? 
God,  you  alone  I  fear,  but  surely  you 
Sent  her  to  guide  me  to  the  good  and  true. 


BE  A  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y  83 


DISTRAUGHT 

UNTIE  the  knot  that  strangles  my  poor  brain 
And  give  it  breath  but  for  a  brief  heart's 
beat, 

Can  you  not  feel  its  cold  lips  on  your  feet 
Chilling  their  marble  whiteness  with  its  pain? 
Is  not  my  body  powdered  now  to  grain 

And  in  Fate's  whirlwind  scattered  now  complete? 

Does  not  my  soul  like  filmy  incense  sweet 
Rise  from  your  altar  where  my  peace  was  slain? — 
Yet  you  could  gather  them  and  make  me  whole, 

Make  my  great  longings  in  fulfillment  cease, 

Kiss  me  from  burning  passion  into  peace, 
Give  me  again  a  body,  mind,  and  soul. 

If  this  must  never  be,  why  teach  me  then 

To  find  the  power  to  humbly  say — Amen. 


84  BEAUTY'  S    LAD  Y 


A  SAD  DAY 

OH  HAGAR,  mother,  great  broad -bosomed  Sea, 
With  hard  tongue  rattling  in  a  mouth 
parched  dry, 
And  pinched  lips  puckered  in  a  last  long  sigh, 

I  throw  myself  on  your  maternity — 

I,  I  your  Ishmael,  take  me,  let  me  be 

Rocked  into  rest  with  your  old  lullaby, 
But  first  before  it  break  just  let  me  cry 

My  heart  out  as  your  arms  encompass  me. 

God  loved  you  once  before  I  was  begot, — 

Hush !  hush !  I  feel  your  deep  unuttered  moan — 
Do  with  me  what  you  will,  I  am  your  own, 

Hide  me  away  in  some  unfathomed  spot, 
I  being  gone,  wiped  out  of  everything, 
The  stars  again  to  you  of  Love  may  sing. 


BE  A  UT  Y'  S    LAD  Y  85 


A  BARBARIAN 

LEAVE  me  alone!  take  off  your  clinging  hands, 
For  God's  sake  let  me  see  no  more  of  you, 
Since  I  must  never  know  you  through  and 
through, 

Leave  me  alone  with  Destiny's  commands, 
Trifle  not  with  a  soul  that  understands 

Love's  lips  are  balmy  with  the  honeyed  dew 
Of  dreams,  Love's  eyes  swim  in  the  misty  blue 
Of  dawn,  lest  the  untamed  in  me  break  bands 
Of  flimsy  laws  men  made  for  women's  use, 

The  wild  untamed  Barbarian  rise  in  might, 
Take  you  and  fly  with  you  into  the  night, 
And  fling  defiance  at  whoe'er  pursues, 

Claim  you,  possess  you  whate'er  might  befall, 
Have  you,  and  hold  you — own  you — all  in  all. 


86  BEA  UT  Y'  S    LA  D  Y 


A  CASTAWAY 

FATE  with  a  breath  blew  out  the  blazing  Sun, 
And  darkness  swallowed  up  Desire's  delight , 
Cast  a  cold  shroud  across  the  face  of  Right, 
And  snapped  the  silver  chords  of  Hope  fine  spun 
From  the  pure  efforts  of  Life  new  begun. — 
Then  up  against  the  bars  of  dismal  night 
A  Spirit's  poor  frayed  wings  beat  their  vain  might 
Waiting  to  hear  some  Dawn  say,  "It  is  done." 
Now  it  but  feels,  if  numbness  so  be  named, 
The  deep  inscrutable  decrees  of  Fate, 
Called  "Nevermore,"  "It  might-have-been," 

"Too  late," 

And  wonders  why  so  frail  a  thing  was  maimed 
And  left  to  wander  with  the  blind  child  Faith 
Down  through  the  broken  road  that  leads  to 
Death. 


BEAUTY'S    LADY  87 


AS  YE  SOW 

TOO  long,  too  long  have  foolish  hopes  and  fears 
Dashed  on  my  soul  the  flush  and  chill  of 
pain, 
Too  long  its  energies  with  might  and  main 

Have  fought  with  Shadows,  watered  dusty  years 

With  evanescent  and  unfruitful  tears, 

Chewed  empty  husks  of  doubtful  doubt,  be  fain 
To  follow  Will-o'-Wisps  across  the  plain 

Of  pathless  longings  where  no  Love  appears. 

E'en  now  as  by  a  wayside  Cross  I  kneel, 

My  prayer  for  peace  falls  back  upon  my  face, 
And  on  my  bruised  lips  bitten  blood  marks  trace 

The  only  answer  to  my  last  appeal — 
I  realize  that  to  my  soul  has  come 
A  white  abiding  Sorrow  blind  and  dumb. 


88  BEA  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y 


A  LONG  JOURNEY 

WE  wandered  down  from  where  the  old  gods 
dwell, 
Psyche  and  I,  we  started  in  the  gray 
D!ni  misty  dawn  and  slowly  groped  our  way 
Down  through  the  clouds  and  where  their  Shadows 

fell, 
Each  asked  the  other,  if  it  knew,  to  tell 

What  lay  below,  and  whither  would  we  stray, 
And  dumbly  strove  to  fashion  words  to  pray, 
It  might  not  be  to  everlasting  Hell. 
Then  suddenly  I  felt  I  was  alone, 

Psyche  had  left  me  somewhere,  loveless,  dead 
To  every  joy,  and  disinherited 
Of  morning  on  the  mountain-top,  then  thrown 
Headlong  into  the  hungry  calling  sea, 
Bruised,  maimed,  but  fearless  once  again  and 
free. 


BE  A  UTY'S    LADY 


A  BOUQUET 

I  PLUCKED  a  bunch  of  song-buds  soft  and  true, 
From  out  the  gracious  garden  of  her  Soul, 
Faint  dawn-eyed  dreamers  nodding  'neath  the 

knoll 

Of  wisdom,  where  the  noble  flowers  grew 
With  crimson  blood-stains  on  a  flaming  hue, 

Pansies,  then  valley-lilies  round  the  whole, — 
White  whispers  of  eternity  that  stole 
From  God  and  blossomed  in  my  Lady's  view. 
Ere  they  could  wither  in  the  grasp  of  hot 

Tense  Passion  treading  down  rebellious  fears, 
I  watered  them  with  pure  and  holy  tears, 
And  kneeling  in  an  unfrequented  spot 

I  laid  my  bunch  of  song-buds  bound  in  Truth 
Beside  the  dead  Hope  of  my  vanished  youth. 


90  BEAUTY'SLADY 


THE  FOUNDLING 

A  LAST  good-bye  then  to  my  foundling  dead, 
A  last  embracing  look  before  it  goes 
Into  the  land  of  mist  no  morning  knows, 
Ta'en  from  my  heart  that  was  its  cradle-bed, 
Poor,  fair,  frail  weakling  with  the  glad  proud  head, 
The  little  placid  breasts  like  polar  snows, 
The  tender  clinging  hands  that  hold  a  rose 
Above  the  thorn-prick  whence  its  life-blood  sped, 
The  pale  white  lips  I  kiss,  flower-petal  ears, 

The  dimmed  wide  open  eyes  that  coldly  stare, 
The  face  of  Beauty's  Lady  prisoned  there — 
Ah  God!  no  more!  good-bye!  for  wet  with  tears 
The  silver-sandalled  Dawn  on  tip-toe  creeps 
Into  the  chamber  where  my  dead  Hope  sleeps. 


BEA  UTY'S    LADY  91 


A  GHOST 

THE  ghost  of  me  lies  underneath  the  lids 
Of  Eyes,  that  strange  to  say  once  came  to 
mine 
Like  frightened  Faith  in  search  of  its  lost  Shrine, 

And  dropped  by  chance  some  purple  red  orchids 

Of  Thought  my  soul  picked  up — what  God  forbids 

The  poor  ghost  dreaming  o'er  these  flowers  divine 
Dew-drenched  with  memory's  alluring  wine, 

And  hearing  Fancies  chirp  like  katydids — 

Too  weak  It  was  for  anyone  to  miss 

Its  presence  or  to  note  its  simple  death, 
It  lies  forgotten  with  the  moment's  breath 

That  slew  it  with  the  phantom  of  a  kiss, 

Dead!  laid  with  unremembered  things  away 
Shall  it  not  know  a  resurrection  day? 


92  BE  A  UT  Y'  S    LA  D  Y 


SHIPS 

ECAUSE  my  ship  has  sailed  far  distant  seas, 
And  borne  the  stress  and  storm  of  gale  and 

blast, 

With  tattered  sails  and  grim  aspiring  mast 
Rode  where  the  midnight  sun  but  shines  to  freeze, 
Trailed  through  the  calms  of  the  Antipodes, 

Weathered  the  waves  of  tropic  passions,  past 
The  tempting  whirlpools,  banks  of  doubt-mist 

vast, 

Been  moored  by  galling  chains  to  alien  quays; 
Because  of  this,  although  it  still  is  staunch, 

Nor  seeks  to  anchor  till  its  haven's  won, 
It  is  forbid  convoy  pure  Beauty's  launch 

That  sails  off  bravely  in  the  rising  Sun, 
They  speak  each  other  and  these  greetings  send, 
"God  speed  you  ever,"  "All's  well  my  good  friend." 


BE  A  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y  93 


REMEMBRANCE 

LIKE  supplicating  drowned  hands  through  the 
haze 
The  branches  stretch  out,  and  the  Dusk 

begins 

To  usher  in  a  troop  of  might-have-beens; 
Like  tawdry  ghosts  of  spendthrift  summer  days 
Chrysanthemums  now  haunt  the  wind-swept  ways 
Where  dead  leaves  huddle  like  affrighted  Sins; 
And  through  the  unfrequented  outs  and  ins 
Of  Mem'ry  my  soul  roams  as  in  a  maze, 
Till  suddenly  it  stays  its  wandering, 

And  sees  great  throngs  of  men  unconsciously 
Dividing,  so  that  all  unhindered  she 
May  pass,  my  Lady  of  the  perfect  Spring — 
Thereat  my  soul  looks  up,  and  lo!  on  high 
The  flowers  of  that  Spring  blossom  in  the  sky. 


94  B  EA  UT  Y'  S    LA  D  Y 


A  POOR  PLAYER 

FRAMED  in  a  rainbow  arch  proscenium, 
A  Spring  set,  on  the  world's  stage  was 
arrayed, 
And  "Beauty  and  the  Beast"  was  duly  played 

By  her  called  Lady  Soullight  and  by  some 

Poor  player  touching  whose  name  Fame  is  dumb. 
Past  praise  she  acted,  word  and  look  conveyed 
Divinely  Love  triumphant  in  a  Maid, 

But  him  the  audience  wished  in  Kingdom  Come. 

So  far  so  good,  but  when  the  play  was  done 
The  Lady  living  close  to  Nature's  heart 
Forgot,  as  well  she  should,  the  play  and  part 

And  bathed  her  Soul  within  the  rising  Sun; 

But  do  you  know,  the  Player  dreams  on,  he 
Is  loved  by  Beauty  through  Eternity! 


BE  A  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y  95 


WINTER 

A  SMILING  calm  conviction  in  the  look 
The  Skies  send  down  so  tenderly  to  bless 
The  puckered  Earth,  who  like  a  prophetess 
Behind  the  shriveled  parchment  of  her  book 
Is  hidden  and  gives  forth  no  sign  to  hook 

A  hope  on;  yet  great  Nature  none  the  less, 
Wrapped  in  a  spotless  warm  white  downy  dress, 
Cracks  many  a  crisp  bright  joke  by  knoll  and  nook. 
Then  from  my  soul  where  thoughts  like  snowflakes  fall 

Dreamily  downward  from  a  star-lit  past, 
A  prayer  is  sent  up  to  the  Heart  of  All, 

That  when  the  veil  is  lifted  up  at  last, 
Within  His  rest  abiding,  I  shall  see 
Sweet  Beauty's  Lady  through  Eternity. 


96  BE  A  UT  Y'  S    LAD  Y 


MIRAGE 

THE  haunting  fragrance  of  her  fragile  hands, 
Enchantingly  astray  across  my  brow 
And  eyelids,  turns  my  living  longing  now 
Back  to  the  mound  where  sadly  memory  stands 
And  drops  a  tear  on  them  in  cere  cloth  bands, 
A  pallid  Dream  and  piteous  unvoiced  Vow, 
Together  buried.    Ah  my  God!  tell  how 
To  blind  that  longing  with  the  burning  sands 
Of  Time,  for  even  now  lark-like  on  wing 
It  soars  above  the  simoon's  upper  edge 

And  sees,  or  is  it  mirage,  a  green  hedge 
Ablaze  with  little  poems  of  the  Spring, 

And  in  its  shadow  Beauty's  Lady  bends 
To  listen  to  the  song  of  love  it  sends. 


BEAUT  Y'  S    LAD  Y  97 


THE  VERDICT 

ONCE  in  my  life  I  strove  to  let  one  know 
My  life  entirely,  everything  that  in 
Me  was,  thought,  word  and  deed,  shame, 
sorrow,  sin, 

Fall,  falterings  in  the  way  I  fain  would  go 
Toward  my  Ideal,  sheltering  as  snow, 

Hopes  chilled  to  death  by  kisses  from  the  thin 
Pale  lips  of  Fear,  Love  lost  amid  the  din 
Of  homeless  hate,  chance-driven  to  and  fro. 
And  never  less  my  littleness  appeared 

Than  in  that  effort  is  my  one  hope  now, 
I  hope  I  failed  to  show  quite  truly  how 
Just  this  or  that  within  my  path  was  cleared, 
For  having  heard  all  I  in  truth  could  say, 
"Coward,"  said  the  list'ner  and  then  turned 
away. 


98  BEA  UT  Y'  S    LA  D  Y 


A  PASSING  WORD 

FROM  out  the  far  off  busy  bright-faced  world 
I  hear  her  say:  "What  are  you  thinking  of 
Tonight?"  she  who  to  me  is  up  above 
The  highest  peaks  round  which  Fame's  clouds  are 

curled, 
Cold  peaks  from  which  my  thoughts  were  one  day 

hurled, 

I  hear  the  voice  of  that  adored  Dream-Dove 
That  fluttered  in  the  air  when  valiant  Love 
Over  my  soul  its  banner  bright  unfurled. 
What  am  I  thinking?  nothing!  Heart-of-joy! 

But  hearing  mem'ry  from  her  warm  nest  sing 
A  carol  of  the  green  and  gold  robed  Spring, 
When  I  forgot  I  was  no  more  a  boy, 

When  gladness,  life,  and  hope  were  in  the  air, 
And  Beauty's  Lady  looked  from  everywhere. 


BE  A  UTY'  S    LA  D  Y  99 


A  LAST  WORD 

A  .ONE!  yes  horribly  alone  tonight, 
My  aching  thoughts  run  out  to  where 
you  are 

Off  in  an  alien  atmosphere  afar 
Beyond  the  senses'  touch  or  ear  or  sight, 
But  my  lone  soul  cries  out  with  all  its  might, 

"Let  no  misfortune  her  white  beauty  mar"; 

And  that  for  you  Love's  gate  may  stand  ajar, 
It  drinks  the  dipper  full  of  pure  starlight — 
Out  of  your  lips  that  petal-like  enclose 

The  flaming  passion  of  divine  desire, 

Let  there  come  forth  the  living  word  of  fire 
That  makes  us  feel  what  only  Goodness  knows, 

That  makes  us  think  beyond  Life's  weary  plight 

May  be  another  world  that  sets  this  right. 


100  BEAUTY'SLADY 


A  FOOT  NOTE 

LET  no  one  think  I  love  her  less  because 
She  failed  to  find  in  me  the  love  she  sought, 
No!  whate'er  else  of  me  there  may  be 
thought, 

My  love  has  never  faltered,  though  full  pause 
She  put  to  my  heart's  singing — Broken  laws 

Are  surely  paid  for  when  true  wisdom's  bought, 
So  why  then  should  she  tie  a  lovers'  knot 
In  my  uneven  life's  thread  full  of  flaws? 
Still  thinking  of  her  I  feel  Spring's  caress, 

I  work  and  wait  and  pray  to  nobly  strive, 
And  wish  with  all  my  soul  that  she  may  thrive 
Upon  the  sunny  slope  of  Happiness. 

I  may  be  only  dust,  but  planted  there 
The  thought  of  her  is  like  a  blossom  rare. 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 


What  shall  be  said  of  these  few  songs  oj  mine? 
Shall  they  be  likened  unto  scentless  weeds, 

That  grew  within  the  garden  land  of  Thought, 
All  blossomless,  nor  in  their  veins  the  wine 
Of  dreams,  that  quaffed,  stirs  up  to  noble  deeds, 

Whereby  mankind  to  Beauty's  shrine  is  brought? 
Even  so;  yet  for  these  weeds  some  use  may  be, 
Some  use,  at  last,  in  thrifty  Nature's  way — 

Who  portions  out  the  dark  and  daylight  hours — 
Within  her  crucible  of  silence,  she 
May  crush  them  through  the  changes  of  decay, 
To  feed  at  last  the  roots  of  fragrant  flowers . 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS 


A  LITTLE  SONG 

Lady  Bird!     Ah  Lady  Bird! 
Your  lips  let  slip  a  little  word, 
That  brought  the  music  of  the  spheres 
Within  the  compass  of  my  ears, 
And  set  the  deathless  boy  in  me 
From  care  and  tribulation  free 

To  roam  the  blue  fields  of  the  sky, 

And  with  a  liberated  eye 

The  joy  of  life  to  comprehend: 

Have  you  not  said,  you  are  my  friend? 


103 


104  SONGS    AND     BALLADS 


RECOGNITION 

YOU  sprang  into  my  life  like  some  lost  Splendor, 
My  spirit  knew  in  far  off  Grecian  days, 
Now  what  you  will,  you  may  do  mar  or  mend,  or 
With  holy  passion  kindle  to  a  blaze 
My  heart  impatient  of  metallic  ways. 

You  may  consume  me  quite  to  dust  and  ashes 
The  wind  to  blow  wherever  it  may  list, 
Or  with  the  splendid  coruscating  flashes 
Of  matchless  eyes  dispel  the  subtle  mist 
That  veils  the  Duty  waiting  to  be  kissed. 

At  least  for  one  brief  moment  let  me  capture 
The  breathing  Visions  that  your  presence  brings, 
In  triumph  rushing  on  with  torrent  rapture 
A  chorus  of  bright  Bacchanalian  Springs, 
Careering  wildly  on  the  wind's  warm  wings. 

I  know  in  some  far  life  our  minds  were  gladdened 

By  one  Ideal  that  possessed  them  quite, 

And  then  to  realize  it  parted  saddened, 

The  one  to  left,  the  other  to  the  right 

Till  now  we  meet  like  moonlight  and  midnight. 

How  is  it  I  was  conscious  of  your  coming 
If  as  men  said  the  good  in  me  went  out, 
Say,  is  it  only  dreams  that  now  are  humming 
A  strange  fantastic  melody  about 
The  perfect  Love  that  casteth  out  all  doubt? 


SONGS    AND     BALLADS  105 

A  feeble  mortal  I  may  be,  Fate  driven, 
Or  on  Life's  checkered  board  the  merest  pawn, 
A  pigmy  where  a  Titan  would  be  riven, 
But  from  my  soul  I  pray  I  still  dream  on, 
If  dreaming  so  I  see  through  you  the  Dawn. 

The  dawn  of  my  desires  that  through  the  ages 
Have  culminated  into  this,  that  when 
God  stanps  Tranquility  on  Time's  green  pages 
The  U  in  it  be  You,  the  I  be  I,  and  then 
No  parting  through  eternity  again. 

So  Lady  born  of  earth  and  sky  and  ocean, 
Incarnate  Beauty  with  the  Truth  aglow, 
Accept  the  undivided  pure  devotion 
Of  one  who  loved  you  many  lives  ago, 
Of  one  who  loves  you  now,  oh !  loves  you  so. 


LOVE'S  COMING 

~"T    .  T^HEN  first  through  silence  sound  was  heard, 
\A7  And  Life  began  to  smile, 

*    *      On  wings  of  light  a  little  word, 
When  first  through  silence  sound  was  heard, 
Came  fluttering  earthward  like  a  bird, 

To  rule  and  reconcile; 

When  first  through  silence  sound  was  heard, 
And  Life  began  to  smile. 


106  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 


A  SONG  FOR  THE  CHILDREN 

HARK!  in  the  East  how  the  silence  is  broken, 
Down  from  the  gates  of  the  Night  drops  the 
bar, 
Lo!  the  wind  shakes,  from  the  Dawn's  trailing  garments 

Gold  flakes  of  glory,  like  seeds  of  a  star. 
Over  the  West  hang  the  curtains  of  darkness, 

Solemnly  screening  the  sphinx-face  of  Fate, 
'Twixt  Dusk  and  Dawn,  as  between  two  Eternals, 
Here  for  a  space  we  stand  hopeful,  elate. 

Visions  of  Love,  crowned  with  lotus  and  laurel, 

Vanish  as  mist  in  the  ambient  air, 
Up  from  the  earth  there  ascends  sound  and  odor, 

Like  a  pure  incense-winged  passionate  prayer. 
Legends  and  lore,  that  Immortals  have  chanted, 

Lift  up  our  minds  to  unspeakable  joy, 
While  to  the  sense,  that  is  over  the  senses, 

Whispers  the  voice  of  The  Carpenter  Boy. 

Thrilled  through  and  through  with  desire  to  be  hearing 

Duty's  divine  undeniable  call, 
Breathless  we  wait,  and  with  wonder  and  worship, 

Know  we  are  part  of  the  Infinite  All. 
But  hold,  O  heart!  o'er  the  wide  fields  of  Heaven, 

From  East  to  West  morning's  light  is  unfurled, 
Shout,  shout  aloud,  then,  a  full-throated  pean, 

"God's  in  His  Heaven,  all's  well  with  the  world." 


SONGS    AND    BALLADS  107 


HUSH! 

LUMBER  softly  babe  upon  my  breast, 
Shadows  beckon  all  the  world  to  rest, 
V.«^  Day  is  dreaming  in  the  arms  of  Night, 
Stars  are  watching  o'er  it  with  delight. 

Hush!  love's  watch  I  will  keep, 
Hush-a-bye  baby,  sleep. 

Pillowed  softly  on  the  soul  of  Peace, 
You  shall  dream  of  lands  where  sorrows  cease, 
Where  Love  lingers  clothed  in  shining  youth, 
Christ  has  told  us  is  the  garb  of  Truth. 

Hush!  love's  watch  I  will  keep, 
Hush-a-bye  baby,  sleep. 

Folded  softly  in  a  perfect  calm, 
Rest  till  morning,  my  heart's  own  love-lamb, 
When  Dawn  heraldfe  up  the  heavens  run, 
Wake  and  with  them  hail  the  rising  Sun. 
Hush!  love's  watch  I  will  keep, 
Hush-a-bye  baby,  sleep. 


108  SONGS    AND     BALLADS 


REST  THEE 

5 LUMBER  my  babe  and  rest  thee  awhile, 
Night  is  for  dreams  and  Day  is  for  toil; 
Tomorrow  thou  wilt  hear  the  birds  sing 
Their  welcome  to  the  new-born  day, 
Tonight  the  peace  that  love  and  faith  bring 
Will  guard  and  keep  thee  safe  I  pray; 
Slumber,  slumber,  and  troubles  fly  away, 
Slumber,  slumber,  until  the  dawn  of  day. 

Slumber  my  babe  and  rest  thee  awhile, 
Night  is  for  dreams  and  Day  is  for  toil ; 
Tomorrow  dance  within  the  sunlight 
That  pours  from  out  the  heavens  above, 
But  through  the  watches  of  this  calm  night, 
Lie  cradled,  babe,  within  my  love; 
Slumber,  slumber,  and  toubles  fly  away, 
Slumber,  slumber,  until  the  dawn  of  day. 


A  THOUGHT 

WHEN  we  dream  that  we  dream,  cometh  dawn, 
When  we  doubt  that  we  doubt,  ccmeth  death, 
When  we  hope  that  we  hope,  dusk  is  on, 
When  we  fear  only  fear,  we  draw  breath. 


SONGS    AND     BALLADS  109 


HEIGH-HO 

A  DREAM  built  a  nest  en  a  branch  of  Desire, 
(Heigh-Ho  for  Dream  and  Desire) 
And  Life  over-head  was  a  white  ball  of  fire 
(Heigh-Ho  for  Dream  and  Desire) 
It  sang  to  a  brood  of  bright  Fancies  it  hatched, 
And  Love  there  with  Love  was  so  perfectly  matched, 
My  Heart  stood  beneath  them  in  silence  and  watched, 
(Heigh-Ho  for  Dream  and  Desire). 

My  Heart  full  of  Hope  stretched  itself  in  the  shade, 

(Heigh-Ho  for  Heart  and  for  Hope) 
It  slept  on  a  cushion  that  melody  made, 

(Heigh-Ho  for  Heart  and  for  Hope). 
But  lo!  when  it  woke  there  came  tears  to  its  eyes, 
So  slow  was  the  Sun  in  the  east  to  arise, 
So  quick  to  return  to  its  own  Paradise, 

(Heigh-Ho  for  Heart  and  for  Hope.) 

The  Birds  had  all  fled  and  the  thin  branch  was  bare, 

(Heigh-Ho  for  Birds  and  for  Branch) 
The  nest,  though  disheveled,  was  hanging  still  there, 

(Heigh-Ho  for  Birds  and  for  Branch). 

A  dull  leaden  cloud  held  its  station  above, 

And  soft,  fleecy,  fluttering  feathers  thereof 

Were  draping  my  heart  in  a  white  shroud  of  Love, 

(Heigh-Ho  for  Birds  and  for  Branch). 


110  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 


A  SONG 

ACROSS  the  rainbow  bridge  of  dreams, 
My  Lady  went  a-Maying, 
And  left  me  on  the  hither  side 
Among  the  graves  of  hopes  that  died 

And  wild  desires  still  baying 
The  moon  of  Memory's  pale  beams. 

Across  the  crystal  stream  of  tears, 

My  Lady's  voice  is  ringing, 
And  through  the  dark  aisles  of  my  mind 
An  echo  answers,  like  a  blind 

Canary  sadly  singing 
Remembrance  of  the  sunlit  years. 


MY  LADY 

than  music  of  mermaids  at  midnight, 
Chanting  their  spells  to  the  soul  of  the  sea, 
Sweeter  than  welcome  of  wee  birds  to  daylight, 
Is  your  voice  to  me. 

Fairer  than  Spring's  coy  glance  to  the  woodlands, 

Dimpling  with  green  all  the  scenes  of  the  lea, 
Fairer  than  froth  of  the  sea  to  the  gray  sands, 
Is  your  face  to  me. 

Symbol  and  sign  of  the  world's  fairest  features, 

Tender  as  Jesu  to  Humanity, 
Awful  as  God  is  to  all  of  his  creatures, 
Are  you,  YOU,  to  me. 


SONGS    AND    BALLADS  111 


TO  BEAUTY 

A  I,  come  to  us!  Ah,  come  to  us! 
We  listen,  be  not  dumb  to  us, 
Imbue  us  with  ambitions  that  Aspasia's  lover 

knew, 

And  having  fed  our  eyes  upon 
The  virgin  glory  of  the  Dawn, 
Oh,  fire  us  with  a  passion  for  the  simple  strong  and  true! 

Yea,  teach  us  how  to  speed  the  plan 

Of  Brotherhood  'twixt  man  and  man, 
And  strengthen  us  against  all  forms  of  ugliness  to  war, 

Oh,  make  our  words  and  works  to  rhyme, 

And  help  our  straying  feet  to  climb 
Away  up  to  the  mountain  tops,  where  God  and  quiet 
are. 


A  LITTLE  WHISPER 

HAVE  you  heard  a  little  whisper 
That  is  running  through  the  air, 
Like  a  baby's  laughing  gurgle 
Or  the  Dawn's  immortal  prayer? 
It  is  breaking  like  the  wavelets 

Of  a  blue  Homeric  sea 
On  the  lava  of  volcanic 

Hearts,  and,  who  knows,  it  may  be 
Just  a  dream  of  God  made  audible 

For  Nature's  lips  to  sing, 
And  awaken  us  and  all  things 
To  the  Beauty  of  the  Spring. 


112  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 


THE  LAST  HOPE 

Y  the  tears  and  triumphs 

That  the  past  has  put  upon  us, 
By  the  songs  and  sorrows 
We  hold  sacred  from  that  trail, 
By  the  Hope  of  Peace  that  joined 

And  heart  to  heart  has  drawn  us, 
Still  we  cannot  but  believe 

That  Beauty  must  prevail. 

Lift  your  voice  in  song  again 

The  Future  comes  to  meet  us, 
With  its  swinging  choruses 

Of  Joy  beyond  our  ken. 
Let  your  broken  heart  be  healed, 

The  God  of  Love  shall  greet  us, 
With  full  recognition 

Through  the  smiling  eyes  of  men. 


A 


LOVE 

GLOWING  moment  hung  'twixt  two  Eternities; 
A  finger-post  that  points  to  Life's  increase; 
A  winning  smile  upon  the  lips  of  Truth  it  is; 
A  light  that  leads  up  to  the  paths  of  Peace. 


SONGS    AND     BALLADS  113 


A  PAGAN  LILT 

WHERE  is  any  Naiad  now 
Sunny  eyes  and  snowy  brow 
Where  is  Pan? 
Lo!  a  tear-stained  Nazarene, 
Thorn-crowned  has  come  between 
Them  and  Man. 

Where  is  any  son  of  mirth 

That  sent  songs  up  from  the  earth 

To  the  Skies? 

Lo!  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 
Dims  and  leaveth  lustreless 

Both  his  eyes. 

Where  is  Venus  all  ablaze 

With  Love's  passion  that  to  praise 

Made  men  groan? 
Lo!  a  Virgin  without  sin 
Tells  her  what  she  might-have-been 

Had  she  known. 


LIFE 

A  SLEEPING,  a  waking, 
A  giving,  a  taking, 
A  sigh  and  a  sigh  with  a  smile  in  between, 
A  groping,  a  quaking, 
A  strife,  a  forsaking, 
Then  room  for  another  to  scatter  and  glean. 


114  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 


A  LOVE  SONG 

THERE  is  no  greater  honor  could  befall  me 
Than  having  brought  a  smile  to  her  dear  eyes, 
There  is  no  wealth  the  world  could  shower  upon 

me 
That  I,  compared  to  her  kind  word,  would  prize. 

I  wonder  if  the  measure  of  my  longing 

To  be  her  servant  only,  she  can  know. 

Or  if  she  knew,  I  wonder,  would  she  sometimes 

On  me  a  glance  of  tenderness  bestow? 

My  heart  is  like  a  wayward  rose  that  clambers 
All  night  up  to  the  silver  gates  of  Dawn ; 
Or  rather  like  a  pebble  by  the  seashore 
The  Sun  has  glorified  by  shining  on. 


H 


A  TOAST 

ERE'S  to  the  Love  that  lives 

In  despite  of  the  fears  of  Hell, 
Here's  to  the  hand  that  gives 

From  a  heart  that  forgives  as  well. 


Here's  to  your  rising  star, 

And  your  soul  that  through  Faith  endures, 
Here's  to  the  best  you  are 

And  the  best  that  can  be,  be  yours. 

Here's  to  the  Truth  you  seem 

And  the  Truth  that  I  fain  would  be, 

Here's  to  the  smiling  Dream 
We  shall  follow  eternally. 


SONGS    AND    BALLADS  115 


A  DUET 

5 AY  what  can  fairer  be,  my  lass, 
Oh,  what  can  fairer  be, 
Than  winds  among  the  bending  grass, 
A-tripping,  lingering,  rustling  pass, 
To  dance  wi'  waves  at  sea?" 

"Oh,  think  thee  it  is  fairer,  lad, 

Say  can  it  fairer  be, 
Than  toddling  bairnies  wi'  their  dad, 
A-making  hearts  and  homes  more  glad, 

Wi'  heaven's  purity?" 

"Oh,  I  will  stay  at  home,  my  lass, 

Stay  at  home  with  thee." 
"Lad,  then  we  shall  never  part, 
For  my  home  shall  be  your  heart, 

Till  Eternity." 


TWO  SONGS 

A1BITION  sang  loud  in  the  morning 
A  song  to  the  music  of  strife, 
It  bade  me  be  strong  in  the  battle, 
That  men  in  their  weakness  call  Life. 

But  Peace  lilted  low  in  the  gloaming, 
When  dew  and  the  long  shadows  fell, 
It  bade  my  tired  heart  lean  on  Patience 
And  whispered  oft,  "Friend,  all  is  well." 


116  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 


UNLESS 

OLOVE!  O  Love!  can'st  thou  not  see, 
My  heart  for  thee  now  breaks, 
By  day  and  night  it  thinks  of  thee, 
All  other  thought  forsakes; 
My  heart  that  as  a  shield  would  guard 

Thy  heart  from  every  foe, 
My  heart  that  from  all  hope  is  barred, 
Unless  it  as  a  shield  may  guard 
Thy  heart  from  every  foe. 

O  Love!  O  Love!  could'st  thou  but  know, 

My  life  is  all  thine  own, 
Thou  would'st  not  surely  pass  it  so, 

It  would  not  be  unknown; 
My  life  that  would  a  message  send, 

Thy  life  to  make  more  glad, 
My  Life  that  must  take  Death  for  friend 
Unless  it  can  a  message  send, 

Thy  life  to  make  more  glad. 

O  Love!  O  Love!  can'st  thou  not  feel 

My  soul's  delight  in  thine, 
The  angels  see  it  prostrate  kneel, 

To  thine  as  to  a  shrine, 
My  soul  that  as  a  light  would  shine, 

For  thine  on  Sorrow's  Sea; 
Ah,  tears  must  dim  this  soul  of  mine, 
Unless  it  as  a  light  may  shine, 

For  thine  on  Sorrow's  Sea. 


SONGS    AND     BALLADS  117 


LOVE  AND  LIFE 

YOUR  love  is  my  daylight  and  came  like  the 
dawn, 
(O  Love  and  O  Life  you  are  one) 
To  flush  into  glory  my  soul  all  your  own, 

(O  Love  and  O  Life  you  are  one). 
All  nature  is  now  a  divine  paradise, 
And  fragrant  as  roses  that  blush  with  surprise, 
When  morning  first  opens  her  laughing  blue  eyes, 
(O  Love  and  O  Life  you  are  one). 

When  time  now  before  us  has  furrowed  my  brow, 

(O  Love  and  O  Life  you  are  one), 
Be  the  bond  that  shall  bind  us  together  as  now, 

(O  Love  and  O  Life  you  are  one). 
Beyond  the  dark  shadow  that  hangs  between  men, 
And   the   lands   that   the  weary   heart  sighing  calls, 

"Then," 
May  a  light  shine  to  welcome  us  glorified,  when 

All  Love  and  all  Life  are  as  one. 


HER  WORDS 

A  VINE  of  Truth  that  flowers  with  smiles, 
And  is  bedewed  with  tears! 
O'er  Wisdom's  fathomless  defiles 
A  vine  of  Truth  that  flowers  with  smiles, 
Entwines  its  beauty,  and  beguiles 

My  heart  of  all  its  fears; 
A  vine  of  Truth  that  flowers  with  smiles, 
And  is  bedewed  with  tears. 


118  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 


MY  SWEETHEART 

MY  sweetheart  is  very  sly, 
Oh!  the  pet;   ' 
From  the  corner  of  her  eye, 
The  coquette, 

Sent  to  my  poor  heart  a  glance, 
Well,  I  think,  called  Cupid's  lance, 
Leading  me  a  merry  dance, 
Woe's  me  yet. 

My  sweetheart  is  wondrous  fair, 

Soul's  surprise! 
Sifted  sunshine  in  her  hair, 

And  her  eyes 

Clearer  are  than  filtered  light, 
Drawn  from  out  the  stars  of  night, 
Sprinkled  o'er  the  infinite 

Bent  blue  skies. 

To  her  wrong  does  not  exist, 

Guile  nor  art, 
Light  and  sweetness  both  have  kissed 

Her  pure  heart; 
Mingling  music  up  with  mirth, 
Ever  since  her  blessed  birth, 
On  this  glorious,  great,  green  earth, 

Is  her  part. 


SONGS    AND     BALLADS  119 

My  sweetheart  is  nearly  four 

Years  of  age, 
But  of  wisdom  she  has  more 

Than  the  sage; 
Who  a  heavy  soul  has  sent, 
Into  wordy  argument, 
Or  for  many  a  year  has  bent, 

O'er  dull  page. 

From  the  Giver  of  all  Life, 

My  soul's  star, 
He  who  rules  both  peace  and  strife, 

Near  or  far 

This  one  boon  I  beg  for  you, 
Clear  celestial  drop  of  dew, 
That  he  still  may  keep  you  true, 

As  you  are. 


DEAR  HEART 

MUSIC  that  trickles  through  brook-fairies' fingers, 
Stemming  the  ripples  by  sunbeams  made 
bright, 

Is  not  so  pure  as  a  clear  voice  that  lingers 
On  my  soul's  senses,  unstrung  with  delight. 

Air  that  is  tangled  among  orange  blossom, 

When  Night  with  dew  bathes  the  fair  feet  of  Day, 

Is  not  so  sweet  as  the  breath  of  her  bosom, 
Flowing  from  lips  the  Truth  hallows  alway. 

Silence  that  was,  ere  the  stars  sang  together 

Heralding  "Love  and  sweet  Light  and  pure  Law," 

Can  alone  tell  in  this  hushed  summer  weather, 
All  my  heart's  love  for  her — all  it's  deep  awe. 


120  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 

DID  YOU  BUT  KNOW 

[FROM  THE  FRENCH] 


A 


H,  did  you  but  know  of  the  tears  that  I  shed, 
Because  by  my  fireside  there  is  no  fond  head, 
Before  my  lone  door  you  would  walk,  fancy  led, 
You  would  pass — 

Did  you  but  know. 


Ah,  did  you  but  know  all  the  look  in  your  eyes 
Calls  to  life  in  my  weary  heart  heavy  with  sighs, 
Just  for  once,  as  you  passed,  your  beloved  face  would 

rise, 
You  would  glance — 

Did  you  but  know. 

Ah,  did  you  but  know  of  the  joy  that  it  brings, 
For  one  heart  to  find  that  another  heart  clings 
Close  as  life's  life  around  it,  poised  on  Love's  wings 
You  would  linger — 

Did  you  but  know. 

Ah,  did  you  but  know  that  you  were  my  heart's  goal, 
And  of  my  deep  love  could  you  fathom  the  whole, 
Perchance  pure  and  maidenly,  white  arrayed  soul, 
You  would  enter — 

Did  you  but  know. 


SONGS    AND    BALLADS  121 

RESEMBLANCE 
[FROM  THE  FRENCH] 

WOULD  you  learn  what  good  reason  can  be 
For  this  infinite  deep  tenderness, 
For  this  passionate  longing?    Ah,  me! 
Vous  resemblez  a  ma  jeunesse. 

Your  eyes  that  bewitch  me  now  gleam 
With  a  hope,  then  again  with  sadness; 
Ah,  your  whole  life  seems  clad  in  a  dream, 
Vous  resemblez  a  ma  jeunesse. 

Your  brow  is  as  pure  and  as  white 
As  Parian  marble — spotless, 
And  crowned  with  a  halo  of  light, 
Vous  resemblez  a  ma  jeunesse. 

And  I  offer  you  humbly  each  day, 
The  love  that  consumes  me,  no  less, 
Unheeding  you  pass  on  your  way, 
Vous  resemblez  d  ma  jeunesse. 


122  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 


"AS  YOU  WERE" 

WHEN   Hope  with  humid  breath  comes  whis 
pering, 
(And  arms  are  shouldered  for  the  com 
ing  fray) 

"Forget  the  strife  awhile,  beyond  today, 
Beside  a  lily-margined  well, 
Enchanted  by  a  mystic  spell, 
Fond  Love  is  list'ning  to  the  voice  of  Spring;" 
Then  Duty  calls  out,  "As  you  were." 

When  Liberty  with  soul-inspiring  voice, 

(And  arms  presented,  front  the  raging  fight) 
"Step  forth  and  battle  only  for  the  right, 
Unheedful  of  the  little  herd, 
Raise  up  your  hand  and  strongest  word 
For  Truth  alone,  and  in  that  Truth  rejoice." 
Then  Habit  calls  out,  "As  you  were." 

When  Life  with  heavy  sighs  says  wearily, 

(And  arms  are  stacked  beside  the  spent  camp 

fire) 

"Brush  off  the  dust  of  every  vain  desire 
To-day  you  trampled  under  foot, 
Nor  idly  think  that  it  will  boot 
To  ponder  o'er  the  past,  heigh-ho!   Ah  me!" 

Then  Death  calls  calmly,  "As  you  were." 


SONGS    AND    BALLADS  123 


A  PRISONER 

I  PLUCKED  a  crop  of  kisses  from  the  garden  of  your 
face, 
And  took  them  to  a  prisoner  I  know, 
For  years,  alas,  how  many,  at  a  steady  thudding  pace, 
In  doubt,  he  has  been  trudging  to  and  fro. 

But  when   I   took  your  kisses  he  fell  trembling  with 
surprise, 

And  at  your  name  stopped,  with  a  sudden  start, 
And  then  his  lonely  cell  became  to  him  a  Paradise; 

The  prisoner,  dear  lady,  is  my  heart. 


DREAM  BLISS 

WHEN  on  thy  face  a  smile  alights, 
And  twitters  round  thine  eyes, 
My  soul  in  dreamy  bliss  delights, 
When  on  thy  face  a  smile  alights, 
Rememb'ring  not  Nirvana  nights, 

It  peeps  at  Paradise; 
When  on  thy  face  a  smile  alights, 
And  twitters  round  thine  eyes. 


124  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 


1 


BOHEMIA 

N  the  beautiful  land  of  Bohemia, 

Where  Common-sense  is  king, 

And  where  "Happy-go-lucky,  Judge-not"   is   law, 
The  weather  is  always  Spring; 


For  its  people  care  nothing  for  customs  old 

And  fashion  reigns  not  there, 
But  they  cheer  up  their  hearts  with  the  Nation's  song 

Of  "Castles  in  the  Air." 

And  no  matter  how  cold  be  the  blasts  that  blow 

From  poverty's  bare  mart, 
The  sufferer  always  can  find  a  place 

In  somebody's  warm  heart; 

For  the  light  that  was  never  on  land  or  sea 

Is  shed  fiom  pity's  eyes, 
And  the  songs  unsung  that  the  poets  hear 

Are  blown  from  Paradise. 

Both  the  young  and  the  old  think  alike  in  this — 

The  greatest  joy  is  to  give, 
And  their  highest  ambition  and  chief  desire 

Is,  fearing  naught,  to  live. 


T 


SONGS  AND  BALLADS        125 


HARMONY 

HE  wind  from  the  west  and  the  sky  covered  over 
With  wavelets  of  cloud,  a  fair  woman  at  rest 
Beneath  an  oak  tree  in  a  field  of  sweet  clover, 
The  hand  on  her  neck  of  a  babe  at  her  breast. 


A  song  on  her  lips  and  her  head  bended  sidewise, 
A  lock  of  loose  hair  on  her  forehead  half  curled, 

A  smile  o'er  her  face  and  the  look  in  her  calm  eyes, 
God  gives  unto  mothers  alone,  in  this  world. 

The  music  of  Life  thrilled  her  heart,  as  the  child  lipped 
Her  breast;  the  warm  air  fell  in  murmuring  song, 

As  bees  from  the  cups  of  fair  scent-laden  flowers  sipped 
Their  sweetness  a  moment,  then  hurried  along. 

A  bird  overhead  hushed  it  clear  notes  to  listen, 
A  light-footed  squirrel  to  look  on  advanced, 

The  sunbeams  made  even  a  gray  stone  to  glisten, 
A  brook  trilled  its  music,  the  leaves'  shadows 
danced. 


126  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 


A  LOVE  LETTER 

1  PLUCKED  a  quill  from  Cupid's  wing 
And  dipped  it  in  the  dew, 
When  Nature  wore  the  mask  of  Spring 
I  plucked  a  quill  from  Cupid's  wing, 
When  every  tree  was  offering 

To  God  a  billet-doux 
I  plucked  a  quill  from  Cupid's  wing 
And  dipped  it  in  the  dew. 

The  letter  from  the  dewy  quill, 

So  full  of  Love's  true  art, 
Was  like  a  morning  skylark's  trill, 
The  letter  from  the  dewy  quill 
Was  quite  invisible  until 

You  warmed  it  at  your  heart, . 
The  letter  from  the  dewy  quill 

So  full  of  Love's  true  art. 

As  red  as  heart's  blood  then  it  shone 

Across  a  page  of  Fate, 
And  as  it  rambled  on  and  on 
As  red  as  heart's  blood  then  it  shone, 
And  showed  the  Hope  had  had  its  dawn 

That  you  would  be  my  mate, 
As  red  as  heart's  blood  then  it  shone 

Across  a  page  of  Fate. 

The  Hope  is  dead  long,  long  ago, 
You  snapped  its  Silver  cord, 
But  memory  remains,  although 
The  Hope  is  dead  long,  long  ago, 


SONGS    AND     BALLADS  127 

And  in  my  heart  could  you  but  know 

The  old  Love  still  is  lord, 
The  Hope  is  dead  long,  long  ago, 

You  snapped  its  Silver  cord. 


IN  THE  DAYS  THAT  NEVER  COME 
TO  PASS 


I 


N  the  lands  that  lie  beyond  to-morrow, 

I  shall  woo  and  win  a  pretty  lass, 
And  our  hearts  shall  never  know  a  sorrow, 
In  the  days  that  never  come  to  pass. 


Near  to  babbling  brooks  of  liquid  laughter, 
We  shall  roam  among  the  scented  grass, 

And  be  happy,  happy  ever  after, 

In  the  days  that  never  come  to  pass. 

Truth  will  then  be  not  so  hard  a  riddle, 
Not  as  now,  seen  darkly  through  a  glass, 

Love  will  make  for  Life  a  perfect  idyl, 
In  the  days  that  never  come  to  pass. 

Thus  I  sang  when  faith  seemed  one  with  folly, 
Days  that  come  to  all  of  us,  alas! 

Now  I  think  it  may  be  melancholy, 

Haunts  the  days  that  never  come  to  pass. 


128  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 


SPRING 

WHEN  the  primroses  peep  forth, 
Braving  winds  from  east  and  north, 
And  the  rain  comes  helter-skelter  with  a  ring, 
When  the  birds  are  on  the  wing, 
Much  too  occupied  to  sing, 
Flirting,  fluttering  with  their  mates,  then  it  is  Spring. 

When  the  ploughman  plods  along, 

With  a  sweet  old-fashioned  song 
On  his  lips,  that  happy  memories  must  bring, 

And  a  sense  of  child-like  joy, 

Makes  a  man  feel  like  a  boy, 
As  he  breathes  the  keen,  sweet  air,  then  it  is  Spring. 

When  the  clouds  all  scurry  by, 

In  a  far  off  opal  sky, 
And  old  ivy  leaves  no  longer  care  to  cling, 

When  a  thrill  runs  through  the  air, 

That  all  Nature  seems  to  share, 
And  begins  to  smile  forthwith  at,  it  is  Spring. 

When  the  roads  are  moist  we  tread, 

And  a  man  holds  high  his  head 
With  new  life,  all-be  he  commoner  or  king, 

When  the  bees  begin  to  think 

Of  the  nectar  they  will  drink 
From  the  flowers  that  soon  will  come,  then  it  is  Spring. 


SONGS    AND    BALLADS  129 


AN  AUTUMN  IDYL 

A"  a  harvest  home, 
Like  a  brazen  dome 
Seemed  the  sky  to  the  temple  of  Love, 
With  my  barns  well  stored, 
To  the  one  adored 
I  said,  "Share  of  the  fullness  thereof." 

As  a  girl  and  boy, 

We  had  known  the  joy, 
Of  a  romp  through  the  lush  bending  grass, 

Then  years  rolled  along, 

Like  a  lilting  song, 
Until  what  I  have  told  came  to  pass. 

When  I  spoke,  she  stood, 

And  let  fall  her  snood, 
And  a  blush  like  a  deep,  damask  rose, 

Over-spread  her  face, 

For  a  little  space, 
And  I  felt  my  soul  tremble,  God  knows. 

Then  she  crept  so  near, 

I  could  kiss  the  tear, 
That  was  christening  the  smile  in  her  eyes, 

And  her  twittering  hand, 

Said,  "You  understand," 
Then  I  claimed  her,  my  heart's  holy  prize. 

So  let  others  sing 

Of  the  hopeful  Spring, 
Of  the  Summer  that's  wooed  by  the  Sun, 

But  the  Autumn's  mine, 

With  its  corn  and  wine, 
And  her  smile  that  says,  "Lad,  we  are  one." 


130  SONGS    AND    BALLADS 


THE  FIRST  BORN 

OTHOU,  the  most  white  of  the  wonders  that 
wade 
Through  the  dew-land  of  dawn, 

0  perfect  impression  of  purity,  made 

For  my  soul  to  lean  on, 
What  dream  or  what  deed  in  my  life  was  so  fair, 

That  the  great  God  above 
Sent  thee  to  reward  it  and  clarify  care, 

O  my  lily-clad  love? 

Not,  not  that  I  think  that  alone  I  was  meant 
By  thy  life  to  be  blest, 

1  know  as  a  Love-lamp  for  all,  thou  wert  sent, 

In  humanity  dressed, 
To  lighten,  to  brighten,  and  gently  to  shed 

Helping  Hope  o'er  their  years, 
And,  crowned  with  a  halo  of  smiles  on  thy  head, 

Teach  the  value  of  tears. 

To  speak  to  their  hearts  of  the  beauty  of  Truth 

Of  the  strength  of  true  Faith, 
And  unto  their  souls  in  the  dawn  of  thy  youth 

Show  the  meaning  of  Death. 
So,  now  to  be  worthy  thy  presence  most  pure, 

And  thy  gracious,  glad  face, 
That  they  may  abide,  and  through  His  time  endure, 

I  beseech  God  for  grace, 
And  wisdom,  and  patience,  illumined  by  Light, 

These,  for  these  do  I  pray, 
To  Him  who  made  thee  of  the  calm  of  the  night 

And  the  glory  of  day. 


SONGS    AND     BALLADS  131 


BROTHERS 

EATH  the  flag  that  is  burdened  with  Crosses, 
And  the  flag  that  if  brightened  with  Stars, 
We  can  walk  o'er  the  wide  world  together, 
And  conquer  by  Venus  and  Mars. 

And  wherever  we  go  our  proud  boast  is 
That  whatever  we  touch  we  adorn, 
Have  we  not  brought  the  blessings  of  Freedom 
To  a  land  of  perpetual  morn? 

With  the  pride  that  becometh  strong  peoples, 
In  our  hearts  we  thank  God  none  the  less, 
In  the  language  of  Shakespeare  and  Lincoln, 
We  come  of  a  race  that  says,  Yes! 


GRUMPY'S  SONG 

DO  a  little,  dream  a  little, 
Fight  or  leave  unf ought; 
What  you  do  or  leave  undone 
Is  at  last  forgot. 
Eat  a  little,  drink  a  little, 
Why  run  on  so  fast? 
At  the  end  of  every  lane 
There's  a  grave  at  last! 


132  SONGS    AND     BALLADS 


THE  BALLAD  OF  A  BOUQUET 

I  SEND  off  a  little  bouquet 
I  plucked  in  my  garden  nearby, 
And  envy  its  lot  that  it  may 
Surprisingly  catch  her  kind  eye. 
For  then,  if  it  does,  will  she  try 
A  moment  or  two  to  disclose 
Its  real  raison  d'etre   and  why 
A  lily,  a  poppy,  a  rose. 

Perhaps  she  will  smilingly  say, 
"Here  Hope  goes  to  sleep  with  a  sigh 
Of  Passion,"  or  "Springtime  at  play 
With  drowsy  abandoned  July;" 
Perhaps  for  awhile  fondle  my 
Frail  gift  tenderly,  and  who  knows, 
At  peace  on  her  breast  let  it  lie, 
A  lily,  a  poppy,  a  rose. 

Or  will  she  just  toss  it  away 
And  leave  it  to  wither  and  die, 
Preoccupied  with  the  cold  grey 
Fixed  stars  in  her  luminous  sky, 
Absorbed  in  the  changeless  and  high, 
Forgetting  the  earth  where  there  grows 
Unheeded  and  yet  oh  so  nigh, 
A  lily,  a  poppy,  a  rose? 

L'ENVOI 

That  you,  Lady  dear,  typify 

Both  Purity,  Love,  and  Repose, 

Is  the  thought  the  bouquet  would  imply 

A  lily,  a  poppy,  a  rose. 


SONGS    AND    BALLADS  133 


THE  BALLAD  OF  SILENCE 

THE  Sun  shook  out  his  gold  red  hair, 
And  in  the  downy,  dreamy  west, 
Bent  low  his  Titan  head  in  prayer, 
Ere  sinking  down  in  state  to  rest ; 
Then  o'er  the  fields  in  twilight  dressed, 
The  dusky  siren  Silence  crept, 

Safe  hidden  in  her  tawny  breast, 
The  mystery  of  Fate  was  kept. 

She  held  within  her  finger  tips, 

Brought  from  a  faded  eastern  clime, 

A  musk-rose  from  a  mummy's  lips, 

That  to  her  own,  from  time  to  time 

She  pressed,  when  some  heart-throb  sublime 

Sought  utterance,  for  those  who  wept, 
Seeing  that  in  no  empty  rhyme 

The  mystery  of  Fate  was  kept. 

A  flock  of  bats  around  her  head, 

In  interwoven  circles  flew, 
Mayhap  with  message  from  the  Dead, 

Beyond  the  fields  of  dawn  and  dew ; 

Or  were  they  souls  the  world  once  knew, 
Who,  while  they  should  have  watched,  but  slept, 

And  so  forever  from  their  view, 
The  mystery  of  Fate  was  kept. 

L'ENVOI 

Ah!  brothers,  who  are  more  than  kind, 
When  Time's  encircling  wall  is  leapt, 

Shall  we  not  say,  "Lest  we  grew  blind, 
The  mystery  of  Fate  was  kept"? 


134  SONGS    AND     BALLADS 


THE  BALLAD  OF  FAME 

THOUGH  ye  are  strong  in  body,  lithe  in  limb, 
Though  ye  are  throated  like  an  ox  in  might, 
Though  ye  are  full  of  valor  and  of  vim, 
Though  ye  are  fearless  and  arrayed  for  fight, 
Though  ye  are  at  your  great  ambition's  height, 
Though  ye  have  made  your  world  stand  in  amaze, 
Remember  this  before  ye  feel  Death's  blight, 
The  breath  of  Fame  is  faint  in  future  days. 

Though  by  the  student's  lamp  your  eyes  grow  dim, 
Though  o'er  the  page  of  lore  ye  bend  by  night, 
Though  ye  have  famished  till  your  frame  grew  slim, 
Though  ye  have  taught  of  "sweetness  and  of  light," 
Though  with  the  laurel-leaves  your  brows  are  dight, 
Though  in  your  ears  ye  hear  the  song  of  praise, 
Remember  this  before  ye  feel  Death's  blight, 
The  breath  of  Fame  is  faint  in  future  days. 

Though  ye  have  faced  the  nameless  terrors  grim, 
Though  ye  have  passed  the  tempter's  kiss  and  bite, 
Though  ye  have  chanted  with  the  cherubim, 
Though  to  the  Sun  ye  soared  with  eagle's  flight, 
Though  ye  have  thought  ye  saw  the  only  Right, 
Though  ye  are  blinded  thereby  as  ye  gaze, 
Remember  this  before  ye  feel  Death's  blight, 
The  breath  of  Fame  is  faint  in  future  days. 

L'ENVOI 

Prince,  pedant,  priest,  to  be  a  whole  man  quite, 
Soul,  mind,  and  body  sue  in  equal  ways, 
Remember  this  before  ye  feel  Death's  blight, 
The  breath  of  Fame  is  faint  in  future  days. 


CONTRASTS  AND  CONCEITS 


CONTRASTS  AND  CONCEITS 


A  SKETCH 

PON  a  blank  page  of  Eternity, 

In  lightning  flashes  and  in  shades 

of  night, 
God    drew    a    sketch    of    Life,    its 

weakness,  might, 
Hopes,   fears,   and   failures,   struggles 

to  be  free, 

Its  deeds  like  islands  set  in  thought's  deep  sea, 
Its  dreams,  that  soothe  with  visions  of  delight, 
The  masses  waiting  for  the  keen  quick  bite 
Of  Death,  that  feeds  on  Wisdom's  fruitful  tree: 
Sins  with  the  open  eyes  of  smiling  youth, 

And  virtues  with  the  crooked  hands  of  toil, 
Pleasures  that  crush  the  Soul  within  their  coil, 
And  pains  that  bleach  it  pure  and  white  as  Truth ; 
But  when  the  Artist  saw  what  he  had  done, 
He  crumpled  it  and  threw  it  in  the  Sun. 


137 


138          CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


AN  IDEAL 

EHIND  a  veil  of  rose-mist  stands  a  Dream, 
A    broad-winged   smile   across    her   visage 

skims, 

No  faintest  blemish  her  fair  body  dims, 
Nor  ever  tears  upon  her  eyelids  gleam; 
She  is  a  blaze  of  beauty,  like  a  beam 

Of  Light  the  Sun  sends  earthward,  glory  rims 
The  utmost  shadow  of  her  lithesome  limbs, 
More  shapely  than  the  mind  of  man  may  deem: 
And  though  the  strongest  songs  he  ever  sang, 
Like  flames  aspiring  from  a  bed  of  fire, 

Die  out  before  they  reach  her  pearl-paved 

place, 

Yet  does  he  strive,  unheedful  of  Time's  fang, 
To  greet  the  goddess  of  his  great  desire, 

To  kiss  her  feet  and  gaze  upon  her  face. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  139 


THE  IDEAL 

WITHIN  a  perfect  circle  of  pure  light, 
More  brilliant  than  the  blaze  of  brightest 
Sun, 

Above  desiring  for  herself,  stands  one, 
Self-centered,  with  white  lilies  all  bedight; 
And  knowing  all  makes  use  of  her  great  might, 
To  lift  the  lowly,  and  leave  lonely  none 
Who  seek  for  Truth,  while  yet  there  sands  may  run 
Through  passion's  day  or  penitence's  night. 
And  though  on  earth  our  minds  may  not  conceive, 
How  passing  perfect  is  her  peerless  face, 

Forth  flashing  glory,  garnered  from  her  soul, 
Yet  in  Life  after  life,  we  do  believe, 

That  we  shall  gaze  upon  her  crowned  with  grace, 
And  in  her  presence  grow  complete  and  whole. 


140  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


THE  OLDEST  ART 

A  DAVID'S  harp  unto  the  soul  of  Saul, 
Is  she,  the  oldest,  vitalest  of  arts, 
To  all  tormented,  striving,  human  hearts, 
Hemmed  in  and  shadowed  o'er  by  Time's  dark  wall. 
In  her  clear  voice,  did  not  the  wisest  call, 
Sad  ^Eschylus  of  old,  and  Sophocles — 
The  leaders  of  the  world  in  wisdom's  ways — 
And  William  Shakespeare,  greatest  of  them  all? 
O  God !  how  grand  a  thing  for  one  to  know, 

That  in  the  mighty  harness  they  have  made, 
And  led  in  reverence  by  the  lines  they  hold, 
He  strives  to  drag  away  the  weight  of  woe, 
That  sin  and  ignorance  upon  men  laid, 
And  bound  there  with  the  cursed  love  of  gold. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  141 


LIBERTY,  EQUALITY,  FRATERNITY 

LO,  in  the  east,  crowned  with  the  rising  sun, 
Confucius  spoke,  "Through  Law  comes 
Liberty, 

Through  what  ye  are  not,  learn  ye  what  to  be, 
Through  what  ye  may  not,  learn  what  should  be  done;" 
And  down  the  ages  rang  that  voice,  till  one, 

Prince  Buddah,  before  whom  men  bowed  the  knee, 
Stepped  down  to  them  and  said,  "Equality, 
Yea,  in  Nirvana,  out  of  pure  souls  spun." 
Last  came  the  crystal-clear  absorbing  Christ, 
Above  all  others,  faultless,  fair,  and  free, 
Saying,  "Our  Father,"  claimed  Fraternity, 
And  to  make  good  that  claim,  with  death  made  tryst; 
Each  lived  the  thought  that  to  the  world  he  taught, 
And    worshipped    God    by    works    that    he    had 
wrought. 


142          CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


HAMLET  BORN 

ESIDE  the  couch  where  his  young  girl-wife  lay 
In   trembling  pity   Denmark's  good   King 

stood, 
The  King  forgotten  in  the  father's  mood, 

While  wiping  from  her  brow  the  damp  away; 

Upon  the  throne,  deserted  for  that  day, 
Mad  Yorick  sat  in  silence,  sad,  alone, 
With  dreams  and  fancies,  had  the  world  but  known, 

It  might  have  laughed  or  wept  at,  one  dare  say. 

Outside,  old  Death  stood  by  the  wild,  joy  fires, 

Hamlet,  that  hailed  thy  birth,  and  at  their  blaze 
Warming  his  withered  hands,  foresaw  thy  days, 

Foresaw  the  end  of  shameless  sin's  desires, 
Foresaw  thy  anxious  soul's  sore  misery, 
And  smiling  to  himself  said,  "H-m,  for  me." 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  143 


SHYLOCK  DEAD 

ALONE  and  broken-hearted,  with  the  dew 
Of  Death  upon  his  eyelids  and  his  eyes— *- 
The  mist  that  hangs  on  this  side  Paradise — 
He  called  upon  the  Mighty  One  he  knew, 
The  God  of  Abraham  and  Isaac,  who 

Could  come  to  him,  on  flaming  wings  of  fire, 
And  grant  at  last  his  weary  soul's  desire, 
So  let  him  die  as  he  had  lived — a  Jew. 
Where  his  long  suffering  tribe  no  base  badge  wear, 

But  walk  in  shining  robes  of  glory  drest, 
Where  psalms  and  songs  float  ever  on  the  air, 

Old  Shylock  sought  and  found  eternal  rest; 
Found  her  he  long  had  yearned  for,  waiting  there, 

Found  sweet  content  and  peace,  on  Leah's  breast. 


144          CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


HEDDA  GABLER 

A  SAPPHO  soul  astray  in  Saga  lands, 
By  hungry  fears  of  bondage  driven  to  bay; 
Above  her  dead  Ideals,  saw  the  gray 
Calm  face  of  Fate  that  wholly  understands. 
Then  with  despairing  but  unfettered  hands, 
O'er  which  the  torch  of  License  shed  a  ray 
Of  blood,  she  in  abandon  dashed  away 
From  Life  its  hour-glass  with  the  running  sands. 
With  will-o-wisps  of  Freedom  burning  pale 
Around  her  bier,  and  the  discredited 
Wan  Dream  of  Joy  with  vine  leaves  on  its  head 
Chief  mourner,  does  she  know  now  if  her  goal 
Holds  yet  another  chance  for  those  who  fail 
To  learn  earth's  noblest  lesson, — Self-control? 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  145 


HESTER  PRYNNE 

A  FRAGRANT  tear-dewed  blossom  blowing  in 
A  Heaven-haunted  Hell,  swayed  by  the 
breath 

Of  Sorrow's  most  pathetic  song  of  Death, 
The  broken-hearted  christen,  "Might-Have-Been;" 
Such  was  the  Love  arrayed  in  Scarlet  Sin, 

Forever  damned  the  Hebrew  Prophet  saith, 

That  for  awhile  exhaled  a  living  Faith 
To  cheer  the  tortured  soul  of  Hester  Prynne. 
Poor  Hester  Prynne,  who  took  a  broken  law 

And  set  its  jagged  crystals  as  a  jewel 
In  the  rich  gold  of  pure  Fidelity, — 
Who  knows,  but  high  in  Heaven  the  good  God  saw 

A  thing  of  Beauty,  where  the  little  school 
Of  men  saw  only  worthless  misery. 


146  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


PLAYING  WITH  FIRE 

tossed,  from  hand  to  hand,  with  juggler's  skill, 
For  many  a  year  the  burning  hearts  of  men, 
And  watched  with  half-shut  eyes  them  quiver, 

when 

They  fluttered  past  each  other  to  fulfill 
Her  filip's  orbit,  inattentive  till, 

With  quickened  touch,  again  and  yet  again 
In  closing  circles  they  would  blaze,  and  then 
To  ashes  turn,  consumed  with  thoughts  that  kill. 
But  gazing  on  those  fatal  lights  so  long — 

Although  mischance  as  yet  did  never  mar 
With  blist'ring  burn  or  an  unseemly  scar, 
Her  peerless  face  that  still  is  as  a  song — 

Her  eyes  have  lost  the  precious  power  to  see 
The  line  of  Beauty  in  Simplicity. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  147 


HEART  TO  HEART 

FOR  many  a  day  I  strove  to  weave  a  cage, 
From  thoughts  that  grew  at  naming  of  thy 
name, 

Best  known  to  me  but  not  unknown  to  Fame, 
Who  smiling  o'er  it,  writes  it  on  her  page; 
But  when  my  mind  would  in  this  task  engage, 

A  soft  delicious  Dream,  wing-clad,  makes  claim 
On  its  attention,  saying,  "Whence  she  came 
I  go,  come  join  me  in  my  pilgrimage." 
Yet  fain  would  I  that  cage  complete,  and  close 
Therein  a  singing  bird,  whose  song  should  be 
As  fresh  as  kisses  to  the  land  from  sea, 
And  warm  as  perfume  from  a  perfect  rose, 

"What  songster,  Sir,"  you  say,  "has  such  an  art?" 
Hush!  tell  it  to  your  heart,  "It  is  his  heart." 


148          CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


POVERTY 

HAIL!  Poverty,  severe  as  thou  art  great, 
Thou  mighty  midwife  of  eternal  minds, 
Accept  the  homage  of  a  man,  who  finds 
In  thee  the  handmaid  of  omniscient  Fate; 
I,  weakling  of  thy  blood,  am  no  ingrate, 

And  while  I  live  will  praise  thee,  who  unbinds 
The  body  from  the  soul,  and  sifts  and  grinds 
The  good  from  bad,  and  gives  to  each,  estate. 
Out,  on  the  little  crew  who  call  thee  cursed, 

Fed  on  a  silver  spoonful  of  delight, 
They  never  in  thy  rugged  arms  were  nursed, 

Or  heard  the  beating  of  thy  heart  by  night. 
What  if  they  quaff  the  wine  of  pleasure?     Thine, 
The  milk  of  human  kindness,  drink  divine. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS          149 


DEATH 

MY  name  is  Death,  some  know  me  as  the  Dawn, 
Upon  the  western  walls  of  Time  I  stand, 
Before  men's  eyes  I  wave  a  magic  wand, 
With  "Heart's  Desire"  they  say  writ  large  thereon; 
Weak  men  whose  souls  with  fearful  doubts  are  gnawn, 
Catch  sight  of  me  and  smile,  the  strong  are  fanned 
By  music  from  the  movement  of  my  hand, 
And  into  seeming  peace  are  gladly  drawn. 
Yet  none  shall  learn  the  mysteries  that  lie 
Behind  my  back,  until  they  cease  to  see 
The  green,  grey  garment  of  the  things  that  be, 
And  all  the  white-winged  wonders  of  the  sky. 
Enough  to  know  and  this  unasked  I  give, 
I  guard  the  home  of  Hope  for  all  who  live. 


150  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


SORROW'S  CROWN 

LIKE  to  a  bird  that's  drifted  far  from  land, 
A  bird  whose  mate  still  twitters  in  the  trees, 
Not  dreaming  of  that  heart  upon  the  seas, 
Beating  its  life  out  in  a  struggle  grand, 
To  reach  again  the  golden-grained  sand; 
Nor  nest,  nor  nestling  it  again  ere  sees, 
But  with  glazed  eyes,  it  thinking  still  of  these, 
Sinks  down  into  the  hollow  of  God's  hand. 
So  is  that  man  who  for  a  short  life's  space 

On  finite  wings  of  puny  thought  does  roam 
Afar  from  Truth,  and  Truth  is  Beauty's  home, 
Who  seeks  to  cross  the  Infinite,  and  trace, 
By  seeming  facts,  the  mystery  of  fate, 
But  dies  at  last  while  crying  out — too  late. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  151 


DUTY'S  KISS 

WHEN   Life  from  Love  accepts  rough  Labor's 
yoke, 
And  strives  to  climb  the  upward,  narrow 

path, 

Temptation  lined  and  rugged  as  a  strath, 
Why  does  a  smile,  like  Prospero's  bright  cloak, 
Hang  round  that  Life,  yea,  though  its  heart  be  broke? 
Is  it  the  thought  of  heavenly  aftermath, 
A  better  gleaning  than  the  moment  hath, 
Begot  of  firm  belief  in  what  Hope  spoke? 
Art- workers  answer,  "Beauty's  face  we  see, 

And  in  her  smile  are  decked,  and  by  it  led"; 
But  others  trudging  on  to  join  the  dead, 
Find  cause  for  wonder  in  such  ecstacy, 
And  I !  I  cannot  answer  why  it  is, 
But  somehow  think,  that  smile  is  Duty's  Kiss. 


152  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


TALENT 

WITHIN  the  circus  ring  of  circumstance, 
In  tarnished  trapping,  many  years  since, 
brought 
By  conquest  from  the  Arab  tents  of  Thought, 

An  ambling  Soul  is  made  to  pace  or  prance, 

Kneel,  nod,  or  caper  in  a  clever  dance, 
Aye,  in  a  word,  show  all  the  little  lot 
Of  laughing  tricks,  that  even  done  are  naught, 

And  scarce  worth  Fate,  the  great  ring-master's  glance. 

Yet,  in  the  intervals  between  the  play, 

A  wild  desire,  to  be  for  once  quite  free, 

To  roam  at  large,  to  browse  beneath  the  tree 

Of  Knowledge,  comes  and  stings  as  gad-fly  may; 

Still,  nimbly,  when  the  next  performance  comes, 
It  answers  to  the  call  of  trump  and  drums. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS          153 


GENIUS 

FROM  far  off  lonely  peaks  of  virgin  snow, 
Relentlessly  forever  onward  pressed, 
From  glade  to  glen,  from  canyon  to  the  crest 
Of  jutting  crag,  from  plain  to  vast  plateau, 
Forever  on,  in  haste  or  crawling  slow, 

A  snake-like  river  winds  down  to  its  nest 
In  the  wide  sea,  whose  unpolluted  breast 
The  pulsing  tide  heaves  ever  to  and  fro. 
After  its  weary  course  at  last  is  run, 

After  the  thirsty  roots  of  Life's  green  tree 
Have  sucked  its  waters  of  Divinity, 
At  last  it  shall  be  kissed  up  by  the  Sun 

To  form  a  cloud  to  shade,  a  shower  to  bless 
The  lands  that  knew  not  of  its  first  caress. 


154  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


IDLE  WORDS 

THE  idle  empty  words  that  I  may  speak, 
Where  go  they  on  the  boundless  sea  of  sound, 
What  shall  they  seem,  when  presently  I  round 
Life's  utmost  jagged  tempest-riven  peak? 
Shall  this  lie  rotting  like  a  wreck  aleak, 

And  that,  like  flying-fish  make  sudden  bound 
Truth-winged,  to  sink  into  the  deeps  profound, 
And  wear  a  rusty  smile  that  seems  to  creak? 
Some  day  I  know  that  they  shall  all  be  met, 
Each  one  a  vacant-eyed  reproachful  elf, 
Grinning  in  chorus,  "Lo!  I  am  thyself 
Forgotten,  now  forgetting  to  forget" — 

Ah,  brother!  wound  me  not  with  mocking  laugh, 
Is  God  less  mighty  than  a  phonograph? 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  155 


PECCAVI 

O  SWEET  Immortals,  ye  whose  lives  are  white, 
Among   whose   shining   ranks   I   hoped   to 
stand, 
When  dreaming  youth  with  Love  walked  hand  in 

hand 

Across  the  scented  fields  of  morning  light; 
Astray,  and  straying  past  recall  and  sight 
Of  even  your  melodious  bright  band, 
My  wandering  feet  are  caught  in  the  quick-sand 
Of  Death,  and  hopeless  change  in  changeless  night. 
Not  from  the  rocks  of  earth,  but  from  the  flint 
Hard  hearts  of  men  an  echo,  to  my  call 
For  help,  comes,  mocking  my  soul's  funeral, 
With  vain,  vain  repetitions  without  stint. 
Is  there  no  hope  through  all  eternity? 
Peccavi,  God'a  mercy  e'en  on  me. 


156          CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


A  CHRISTIAN 

GOD  laid  a  Sceptre  of  white  lilies  on 
The  shoulder  of  his  Soul,  as  lightly  as 
A  sunbeam  touches  Springtime's  tender 

grass, 

And  bade  him  rise  a  Knight,  sworn  to  the  wan 
Fair  thorn-crowned  Christ,  and  sworn  to  neither  fawn 
Nor  falsely  bend  the  knee  to  the  dense  mass 
Of  faithless  ones,  but  with  Love's  banner  pass 
Amongst  them,  with  the  sword  of  Hate  undrawn. 
Heard  by  his  heart,  a  Still  Small  voice  doth  cheer 
And  comfort  him,  in  trying  times  and  ways, 
And  little  children  sing  him  songs  of  praise, 
Yea  when  at  last  with  gently  falling  tear, 

Death  leaves  him  on  the  footsteps  of  the  Throne 
A  nail-pierced  Hand  shall  claim  him  for  Its  Own. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  157 


A  CANNIBAL 

DEEP  in  the  jungle  of  a  city's  streets, 
With  other  wild  untamable  sad  things, 
A  man  who  might  have  held  high 

court  with  Kings 

Of  Thought,  roams  aimlessly,  and  greets 
Each  tardy  morning  with  the  smile  Death  meets 
When  kissing  some  defiant  skull,  and  flings 
All  hope  of  hope  into  the  wind,  that  sings 
A  requiem  o'er  a  world  of  shows  and  cheats. 
Then  in  the  lonely  caverns  of  the  night 

Where  weird  unholy  fancies  hoot  and  caw, 
Dark  rebels  to  the  primal  voice  of  Law, — 
He  hides  himself  from  even  God's  clear  sight 
He  thinks,  and  being  thus  alone,  apart, 
Eats  out  his  palpitating  bleeding  heart. 


158  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


A  REFORMED  RAKE 

UNSELFISH  tenderness  and  loving  care 
He  brings  his  wife,  and  calmly  strives  to 
please 

Her  every  wish,  and  though  her  faults  he  sees 
Yet  he  is  tolerant,  and  seeks  to  spare 
Her  from  the  knowledge  that  he  knows  them  there, 
These  little  faults  that  often  are  the  lees 
Of  that  pure  pleasure  wedded  bliss  can  squeeze 
From  out  the  dead-side  fruit  of  Time's  despair. 
Reformed  he  is,  and  upright,  yes  as  Truth, 
But  happy?  never!    Why?  because,  forget 

He  cannot,  that  his  heart  had  been 
Cremated  on  the  passions  of  his  youth; 

So  nightly  now  he  scours  with  bloody  sweat 
And  that  heart's  ashes  his  poor  conscience 
clean. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  159 


A  MAGDALEN 

FLOGGED  thither  by  lust's  desecrating  fire, 
The  ghosts  of  unfledged  races  find  a  tomb 
Within  her  hollow  unproductive  womb, 
A  half  burned  crater  of  blown-out  desire, 
Where  mystery  was  bartered  for  small  hire — 

Where  God's  life-secret  to  create  should  room 
As  deep  a  mystery  of  awful  gloom 
Now  lies  and  on  the  urn  Love's  broken  lyre. 
Virtues,  like  stepping  stones  to  solemn  rest, 
Mark  the  volcano  spent,  the  gen'rous  Sun 
Does  sometimes  gild  it  with  its  gold  fine  spun 
In  Nature's  loom  of  loveliness,  at  best 
Some  nodding  scarlet  poppies  on  it  grow, 

But  fragrant  warm  bright  blushing  roses — no. 


160  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


MARRIAGE 

WITHIN  the  lonesome  depths  of  awful  night, 
I  met  the  wild  barbaric  Past  of  me, 
Firm -jawed  and  fearless,   unabashed  and 

free, 

And  deathless  prayers  and  passions  flashed  a  light 
From  out  Her  level  eyes,  that  straight  did  smite 

My  listening  soul  with  question,  "Shall  you  be, 
Or  through  a  dawnless  dim  eternity 
With  unavailing  shadows  take  your  flight?" 
Quick  from  the  central  confines  of  my  soul, 

A  voice  rose  clearly  in  commanding  calm, 
"Beloved,  kiss  me  and  behold  I  am, 
Yea,  but  embrace  me,  we  are  one  and  whole." 

Strange,  now,  a-down  the  dream-lit  aisles  of  space 
I  see  the  Future  watching  with  Her  face. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  161 


A  VALENTINE 

AD  it  the  power,  the  voice  that  speaks  to  you 
Would  cuddle  up  and  in  your  heart's  lap  fall, 
Like  some  delicious  gushing  madrigal, 
You  first  heard,  wading  ankle-deep  in  dew 
Within  the  morning  of  a  Dream,  on  new 

Untrodden  continents  of  Hope,  where  all 
Unheeding  Youth  stands  at  the  beck  and  call 
Of  Love  enthroned  in  gold  and  green  and  blue. 
Alas,  no  alchemist  of  art  is  nigh 

To  cunningly  transmute  by  fire  divine 

This  verse  into  a  silver-throated  song, 
Yet  word  to  word  is  hyphened  by  a  sigh 
Of  longing  to  be  thought  a  valentine 

For  your  Soul  singing  as  it  jogs  along. 


162  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


THE  FIRST  KISS 

I  PLEDGE  myself  life-deep  to  keep  the  thought 
That    rose    dawn-robed    when     first    her    lips 
touched  mine 

In  perfect  purity,  it  seemed  a  sign 
That  God  for  me  a  miracle  had  wrought 
And  out  of  all  my  discords  safely  brought 

A  tune  where  dreams  with  nobler  deeds  combine. 

It  seemed  to  give  my  hand  a  silver  line 
To  lead  me  to  the  Shrine  of  Peace  I  sought; 
It  drenched  in  moonlight  all  the  Past  and  shed 

A  golden  glory  on  the  Future's  face, 
It  tore  a  crown  of  thorns  from  Love's  bent  head, 

And  Hope's  bright  diadem  put  in  its  place; 
It  showed  the  meaning  of  unending  strife, 
It  was  in  very  truth  a  breath  of  Life. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  163 


THE  LAST  KISS 

AS  fragrant  balm  from  far  off  isles  of  Bliss 
Is  welcomed  by  wayfarers  as  they  go 
Elysium-ward,  so  too  I  seem  to  know, 
Through  some  unknown  keen  sense,  that  all  of  this 
Rough  sea  of  Life  leads  on  to  that  which  is — 
For  after  this  I  shall,  come  weal  or  woe, 
Remember  always  how  she  came  to  throw 
A  light  on  Life  hereafter  with  her  kiss; 
Not  on  the  lips  as  when  of  old  we  met, 

Nor  cheek,  nor  eyes,  nor  hand,  but  just  the  place, 
I  think  in  Love-mad  May-time  she  prized  most 
Upon  my  brow,  now  clammy  with  the  sweat 
Of  pallid  Fate's  implacable  hot  chase — 
The  first  kiss  had  a  perfected  white  ghost. 


164          CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


A  FARCE 

THE  noon  of  night  was  canopied  with  awe, 
And  darkness  dense,  unbroken  by  a 
beam 

Of  hopeful  light,  made  silence  almost  seem 
An  arm  to  lean  on  and  a  mouth  to  draw 
Close  to  my  ear  for  comfort,  when  I  saw, 

As  if  in  burning  brimstone's  bluish  gleam, 

A  meagre  unbaptized  persistent  Dream 
Arise,  and  write  upon  the  air  the  Law 
Of  Harvest — "Ye  shall  reap  what  others  sow. 

Yea,  as  ye  sow,  so  shall  another  reap, 
For  in  a  winding-sheet  of  last  year's  snow 

Ye  wrap  the  Future  up  from  face  to  feet, 
And  plant  upon  its  grave  some  longings  sparse 

That  by-and-by  shall  look  on  as  a  farce." 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS          165 


LONELINESS 

HIS  heart  is  a  wind-swept  desert  wide, 
And  in  the  crater  of  the  empty  well 
Of  Truth  is  blown  the  withered  asphodel 
Of  Purity,  that  crowned  the  crucified; 
Three  crosses  mark  the  place  whereon  they  died, 

Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity,  who  heard  their  knell 
Ring  in  that  bleak  and  barren  burnt-out  hell, 
Where  now  but  ghostly  memories  abide. 
No  tree  gives  branch  to  be  old  age's  crutch, 

No  star  shines  there  to  guide  where  day  is  not, 
No  loving  hand  brings  comfort  with  a  touch, 

But  Life  prays  sullenly  to  be  forgot, 
And  pass  beyond  the  reach  of  human  ken, 
Till  Death  shall  whisper  with  white  lips  "Amen." 


166  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


A  CHANCE  ACQUAINTANCE 

1SAW,  or  was  it  heard,  I  cannot  tell, 
A  Dream-song  dying  at  the  birth  of  Dawn, 
I  cannot  tell  for  every  sense  was  drawn 
Into  the  focus  of  a  mystic  spell 
That  left  them  awe-struck  huddled  up  pell-mell; 
I  know  I  felt  illusive  sweetness  gone 
Away  beyond  my  reach,  and  thereupon 
I  wept  and  woke  immersed  in  the  light-well 

Of  morning;  then  a  strange  reaction  came, 
I  seemed  to  be  no  longer  quite  alone, 

As  in  the  old  times  full  of  shame  and  blame, 
A  presence  I  had  never  before  known 

Was  by  my  side,  I  thought,  the  whole  day  long, 
I  wonder  if  it  was  the  dead  Dream-song. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  167 


A  LIFE  SENTENCE 

WITH  bandit  touch  my  eyes  made  bold  with  you 
One  night  beneath  Bohemia's  blue  skies, 
When  straight  the  hand-cuffs  of  your  steely 

eyes 

Arrested  them  and  made  me  prisoner  too. 
A  willing  captive,  I  was  made  to  do 
Obeisance,  being  led  in  sweet  surprise 
Within  a  palpitating  Paradise 
Where  old  Ideals  were  upraised  anew. 
There  for  a  span,  where  time  was  quite  forgot, 
I  fed  on  kisses  culled  by  holy  wells 
Of  thought,  I  heard  your  words  chime  like  the  bells 
Of  Morning's  Sabbath  ere  sin  was  begot. 

I  fell  asleep  in  radiant  despair, 
I  wake  to  find  my  soul  still  prisoned  there. 


168  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


HOPE  DEFERRED 

O  HEAVY  eyes  that  ache  with  unshed  tears, 
Fixed  steadfast  on  the  blaze  of  a  Belief, 
A  Shadow,  like  an  ancient  god's  grey  grief, 
Has  lain  upon  your  lids  these  many  years; 
Poor  quivering  lips,  nigh  parted  by  the  fears 

That  fain  would  laugh  between,  not  yet  relief 
For  you,  not  yet,  in  an  intense,  bright,  brief, 
Full-flushed,  triumphant  kiss,  when  Truth  appears. 
Is  it  great  wonder  that  the  once  strong  heart 

Has  grown  numbed,  nerveless,  in  the  dim  twilight 
Of  unremunerative  Time?     The  bite 
Of  Death  would  welcomed  be,  for  blood  would  start 
Once  more  in  a  red  rush,  wer't  but  to  cease 
And  be  absorbed  in  an  unconscious  peace. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  169 


"A  MOMENT'S  MONUMENT" 

GREY  skies  are  dismal  thoughts  and  nothing 
done; 
Heart  look  to  it  or  ere  the  hour  be  spent, 
Something  shall  stand  for  this  day's  monument, 
Some  error  conquered,  some  new  life  begun, 
Some  flower  of  Faith  peep  forth  to  greet  the  sun, 
Some  dove-like  Hope  come  back,  that  once  was 

sent 

Out  o'er  the  floods  of  doubting  discontent, 
Though  of  the  olive's  branches  it  bears  none ; 
Beat  to  the  tune  the  stars  sang,  when  of  old 

"Peace  and  good-will"  first  fell  on  mortal  ears, 
And,  set  in  an  aureola  of  tears, 
The  shining  face  of  smiling  Love  behold; 
All  failing  else,  in  passionate  despair 
Trudge  on,  resolved  to  be  something  somewhere. 


170  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


HEREDITY 

A  RESTLESS  outlaw  left  the  city's  din, 
And  sought,  he  knew  not  why,  in  green  clad 
fields, 
The  rest,  quiet  Nature  to  her  children  yields, 

Sore  burthened  by  their  heavy  hearts  within ; 

By  chance  he  met,  or  e're  the  night  set  in, 

A  maiden,  with  the  dawn's  light  in  her  eyes, 
Who  listened  to  his  voice  in  mute  surprise, 

And  loved  him  for  his  strength  and  knew  no  sin. 

Back  to  the  city  went  the  lawless  man, 

And  by  his  side  this  woman,  whose  soft  words 
Were  sweeter  than  the  music  of  song  birds, 

Who  bore  a  child  and  suffered  for  a  span ; 

Then  heard  the  Voice  that  bids  all  sorrows  cease, 
So,  smiling,  passed  into  the  land  of  Peace. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  171 


II. 


From  her  son's  son,  in  half  a  hundred  years, 
A  cripple  came,  whose  body  held  a  soul, 
That  paid  to  Time,  in  silence,  the  grim  toll 

Revengeful  Fate  had  fashioned  out  of  tears — 

A  soul  that  rose  above  all  body's  fears, 

And  felt  a  calm,  beyond  its  own  control 
To  mar  or  make,  directing  to  the  goal 

Where  perfect  Life,  Love's  perfect  music  hears. 

An  erring  father's  sins  we  know  shall  pass 

Unto  his  children's  children,  may  not  these 

Fair  virtues  of  our  mothers  still  come  back, 

And  bring  with  them  the  perfume  of  the  grass, 
The  lisp  of  leaves  on  consecrated  trees, 
The  feeling  for  the  Infinite  we  lack? 


172  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


THE  LAST  LOOK 

MORE  white  than  blackthorn  blossoms  or  the 
snow, 
Between  some  briny  kisses  wet  with  tears 
Of  parting,  now  a  woman's  face  appears 
And  looks  the  pain  that  God  alone  can  know 
When  some  lost  Soul  that  loved  him  once  must  go 
Away  behind  His  back,  a  look  that  sears 
Since  then  her  plighted  lover's  barren  years 
Who  needs  must  forth  and  strike  for  Truth  a  blow. 
A  "truth"  she  could  not  see  and  would  not  seem 

To  harbour,  for  she  loved  her  lover  far 
Too  well  to  lie — She  "loved" — ah!  do  I  dream 
I — I — who  killed  her  heart  and  hourly  war 
With  vain  regrets  by  day  and  all  night  long, 
For  now  I  know  the  "Truth"  I  thought  right — wrong. 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  173 


A  VAGUE  REPORT 

IF  haply  one  might  pass  the  bourne  of  dross, 
Of  futile  strife,  of  dead  unfinished  deeds, 
Of  jangling  jealousies,  of  barren  creeds, 
Of  dreamy  quagmires  overgrown  with  moss; 
And,  casting  all  aside,  ne'er  count  it  loss 

Again,  but,  following  where  Love  still  leads, 
Would  he  hear  suddenly,  amid  green  meads, 
The  voice  of  Conscience  preaching  with  her  Cross? 
So,  in  the  haunted  chambers  of  unrest, 

Where  fevered  Life  gropes  blindly  for  release, 
And  cheats  itself  with  will-o'-wisps  of  peace, 
A  rumor  runs,  that  racks  each  tortured  breast 
With  strivings  to  recall  resplendent  days 
When  Hope,  with  peering  eyes,  spoke  words  of 
praise. 


174  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


THE  PROMPTER 

INTO  the  lowly  valley  of  my  life, 
Where  dreams  and  fancies  dance  in  idle  play, 
Love  came  and  with  a  zephyr-voice  did  say 
"What  kind  of  woman  would  you  woo  for  wife?" 
I  answered  tremblingly  because  the  strife 

Of  being  made  me  pause:     "Had  I  my  way 
The  might  of  knowledge  and  the  mirth  of  May 
Would  make  her  face  with  fascination  rife, 
Her  eyes  would  have  the  light  of  Love's  own  hue, 
Her  hair  the  falling  waves  of  perfect  rest 
To  lull  me  into  peace  upon  her  breast 
And  leave  me  listening  to  her  heart-beats  true," 

And  then  Love  said:  "Her  Soul  would  be  a  voice 
That  whispered  'Labor  and  in  that  rejoice.'" 


CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS  175 


DREAM-PASTURES 

A  FLOCK  of  Dreams  in  dignified  repose, 
Within  the  flowering  pastures  of  her  face, 
Where  Faith  has  set  the  light  of  mystic 

grace, 

Lie  waiting  for  the  voice  of  him  who  knows 
The  lonely  peaks  of  Truth,  o'ercapped  with  snows 
That  warmly  Shelter  the  pure  hiding  place 
Of  Love,  waiting  for  yet  a  little  space 
For  him,  whose  voice  shall  somehow  seem  a  rose. 
Ah,  brother,  somewhere  on  your  holy  quest, 
Tonight  you  travel  on  to  meet  the  light, 
Could  you  but  hear  my  call,  fleet  as  thought's 

flight, 
Your  feet  would  bring  you  here,  and  as  a  guest 

Full  welcome,  you  would  join  the  song  those  Dreams 
Strike  from  the  harp-strings  of  divine  star-beams. 


176  CONTRASTS    AND     CONCEITS 


TO  THOSE  I  LOVE 

WHEN  you  are  old  and  talk  with  soft  slow  tongue 
Around   your   chair  some   autumn  night, 
maybe, 

Your  children's  children,  gathered  at  your  knee, 
Will  call  to  mind  a  word  that  you  heard  sung 
Away  off  in  the  moon-lit  past  among 

The  haunts  of  men,  and  you'll  say  tenderly, 

Half  to  yourself,  unmindful  of  their  glee, 
"Ah,  Donald  sang  for  me  when  I  was  young." 
I  shall  be  then  beyond  the  call  of  man, 

Quite  done  with  gladness  or  its  shadow  grief, 
Commingled  with  the  elemental  Life; 
But  now,  here  in  the  thickness  of  the  strife, 
I  borrow  from  the  future  while  I  can, 

And  joy  heart-deep  in  that  child-like  belief. 


RHYMES  AND  RUNES 


RHYMES  AND  RUNES 


CUPID'S  JEST 

came  in  cap  and  bells 
To  the  court  of  Love, 
In  among  the  Dawn's  green  dells, 
Cupid  came  in  cap  and  bells 
To  the  place  where  Venus  dwells, 

And  threw  down  a  glove; 
Cupid  came  in  cap  and  bells 
To  the  court  of  Love. 


Challenged  Venus'  retinue 

To  defend  her  fame, 
As  a  ringing  blast  he  blew, 
Challenged  Venus'  retinue, 
Said  a  fairer  one  he  knew — 

Psyche  was  her  name; 
Challenged  Venus'  retinue 
To  defend  her  fame. 


179 


180  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 

To  a  thing  in  motly  drest 

None  would  deign  reply, 
Thinking  it  an  idle  jest, 
To  a  thing  in  motley  drest 
Queenly  Venus  from  her  breast 

Sent  howe'er  a  sigh; 
To  a  thing  in  motley  drest 
None  would  deign  reply. 

Cupid  heard  the  sigh  and  felt 

Pity  dim  his  eyes, 
And  his  heart  began  to  melt, 
Cupid  heard  the  sigh  and  felt 
He  should  kneel,  so  down  he  knelt 

Doffing  his  disguise; 
Cupid  heard  the  sigh  and  felt 

Pity  dim  his  eyes. 

For  the  sake  of  bye-gone  days 

Knelt  he  thus  so  low, 
While  her  court  stood  in  amaze, 
For  the  sake  of  bye-gone  days 
When  to  gain  from  her  some  praise, 

He  had  bent  his  bow ; 

For  the  sake  of  bye-gone  days 

Knelt  he  thus  so  low. 

Wearied  out  with  what  men  say 

In  Desire's  control, 
Somehow  from  that  very  day, 
Wearied  out  with  what  men  say, 
In  a  strange  and  unknown  way 

Venus  found  a  Soul ; 
Wearied  out  with  what  men  say 

In  Desire's  control. 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  181 

Far  more  beautiful  she  grew 

Noble  men  attest, 
Formed  of  sea-foam,  fire,  and  dew, 
Far  more  beautiful  she  grew, 
And  has  power  now  to  imbue 

Worshippers  with  rest; 
Far  more  beautiful  she  grew 

Noble  men  attest. 

With  the  sunlight  on  his  head 

Cupid  kissed  his  hand, 
Stretched  his  wings  lark-like  and  sped, 
With  the  sunlight  on  his  head, 
Yea  with  song  the  good  news  spread 

Over  all  the  land, 
With  the  sunlight  on  his  head 

Cupid  kissed  his  hand. 


BODY  AND  SOUL 

AN  Atom  and  a  Spirit  met 
In  cloudland's  cosmic  bed, 
Beliefs  opposing  alphabet 
An  Atom  and  a  Spirit,  met 
And  made  one,  who  does  not  forget 

In  him  they  two  are  wed; 
An  Atom  and  a  Spirit  met 

In  cloudland's  cosmic  bed. 


182  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


FOLLOW  THE  LEAD 

OTH  in  and  out, 
And  round  about, 
To  Nature's  changing  tune, 
The  Month's  have  danced, 
And  skipped  and  pranced, 
Till  July's  near  to  June. 

By  mossy  creek, 

And  icy  peak, 
At  follow-lead  they've  played, 

Now  witching  May, 

Across  the  clay, 
Runs  after  April's  shade. 

The  laughing  Sun, 

His  work  well  done, 
From  his  wide  realm  looks  down, 

And  sees  June  wear, 

Twined  in  her  hair, 
His  roses  for  a  crown. 

But  bold  July, 

With  jealous  eye, 
Says,  "Turn,  your  Majesty," 

Alas!  Alack! 

Just  at  her  back, 
Says  August,  "Turn  to  me." 

And  then  ere  long, 
With  chime  and  song, 
In  nature's  ermine,  snow, 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  183 

A  joyous  band 
Will  countermand 
The  cry  of  those  that  go. 

In  roses  white 

And  red  bedight, 
Still  June  in  glory  glows, 

And  yet  awhile 

She  wears  his  smile, 
The  Sun's  smile,  a  red  rose. 


THE  DAWN  FAIRY 

A  FAIRY  came  from  out  the  land 
Of  fair-faced  dreams,  it  held  a  wand 
Of  scented  sunbeams  in  it's  hand — 
Upon  it's  head  a  coronet 
Of  silvery  thistle  down,  beset 
With  dew  drops  from  a  violet. 
The  robes  of  mist  in  which  'twas  dressed, 
Dye  from  a  maiden's  blushes  pressed 
Had  tinted  pearly  pink.     It's  breast 
Was  beautiful  as  Youth;  it's  feet 
With  fire-flies  wings  were  shod  that  beat 
The  air  to  music.     Sweet,  Oh,  sweet 
To  me,  as  Light  to  Life,  were  those 
Pure  notes  that  like  faint  odor  rose 
And  fell  around  me.     Ere  their  close 
The  Fairy  vanished,  but  though  gone 
It  left  a  voice  that  smote  upon 
My  heart  the  words,  "I  was  your  Dawn." 


184  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


T 


THE  DEVIL'S  DREAM 

HE  Devil,  aweary  once,  fell  asleep  on 
The  bank  of  the  River  of  Tears, 
And  dreamed  of  the  deeps  of  delight  that  were 

his 
Ere  Time  was  told  off  into  years. 


Ere  man  was  yet  made,  or  he  made  to  make  man 

See  good  above  all  is  the  best, 
When  Law  was  called  Love,  and  when  Light  lay  on  all 

Like  a  crown,  to  rest  upon  rest. 

Well,  a  vision  of  virtue  from  out  of  that  past, 

Like  mist  from  a  marsh  of  the  sea, 
Rose  up  in  his  dream,  and  seemed  fair  unto  him 

As  of  old, — and  he  yearningly 

Smiled  to  it,  leaned  out  his  soul  to  it,  when,  lo! 

A  bird  in  a  clump  of  dark  oak, 
Burst  forth  into  song,  and  his  vision  was  gone, 

He  heard  it,  and  cursing  awoke. 

"Out,  out  on  you  bird!"  he  cried,  "No  song  of  yours 

Again  shall  be  heard  in  the  light, 
In  the  dark  you  shall  mourn  alone,  and  be  called 

The  nightingale — bird  of  the  night." 

Thus  came  it  that  music  with  starlight  was  wed, 

To  herald  an  incoming  morn, 
For  that  bird  by  night  sings  even  now,  "Out  of 

The  Darkness  called  Death,  Life  is  born." 

But  the  Devil  with  suffering  upturned  eyes, 

Since  waking  at  sound  of  that  song, 
In  lone  haunted  places  upon  the  wind  cries, 

"How  long,  O  my  Master,  how  long?" 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  185 


CREATION 

IN  vast  and  unimagined  space, 
Ere  Life  or  Death  was  born, 
Ere  Time  had  lined  the  baby  face 
Of  Hope,  not  yet  forlorn, 

On  trailing  clouds  of  sobbing  sound, 
God  lay  asleep  and  dreamed, 
Upon  His  lips  a  soft  breath  found 
The  sight  word,  Love.     It  beamed 

Forth  into  Light  when  He  awoke, 
And  bade  Creation  come, 
Wailing  died  Chaos  as  He  spoke 
The  words,  "Behold  Love's  home." 

The  echo  of  the  wailing  cry 
Tired  hearts  hear  and  call  Sorrow; 
The  Harper  calls  Love,  Harmony; 
The  Painter  calls  Love,  Beauty; 
The  Poet  calls  Love,  God. 


186  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


I 


A  RED-LETTER  NIGHT 

N  her  dream-nest  built  from  the  blossoms  of  Art, 
We  sat  and  chatted  the  hours  away, 
And  in  someway  or  other,  it  seemed  the  heart 

Of  each  to  each  had  a  word  to  say, 

Or  a  little  tune  to  softly  play. 


As  a  matter  of  fact,  but  a  month  ago 
The  lady  had  never  heard  my  name, 

Now  behold,  on  our  minds  was  the  golden  glow 
That  comes  from  the  give-and-taking  game 
Of  friendship, — little  I  gave,  more  blame! 

Though  alike  we  liked  much  as  the  other  did 
Is  true,  be  it  music,  books,  or  men, 

Yet  I  scarcely  think  that  that  lifted  the  lid 
From  each  of  our  lives  and  told  us  when 
To  gently  cover  them  up  again. 

No,  I  really  think,  if  the  truth  were  known, 
There  stood  by  the  elbow  of  each  mind, 

The  attentive  ghost  of  a  sorrow  outgrown, 
That  left  for  legacy  this  behind, 
The  wish  to  be  humbly  just  and  kind. 

But  be  that  as  it  may,  this  I  surely  know, 
So  the  why  and  wherefore  matters  not, 

That  my  Soul  drifted  out  on  an  undertow 
Of  unvoiced  feeling,  to  that  bright  spot 
Where  sordid  worry  is  quite  forgot. 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  187 

To  say  that  I  thank  her  is  only  mere  words, 
I  do,  though,  nevertheless,  and  make 

This  beside  (did  I  hear  the  new  Spring's  birds?) 
A  promise  to  self  to  calmly  take 
New  hope,  because  of  that  evening's  sake. 


I 


A  PROTEST 

AM  sick  of  weak-kneed  nagging  nothings, 

So  full-filled  with  regret  and  reform, 
They  whose  loves  are  as  vain  as  their  loathings, 
And  whose  thoughts  at  the  best  are  lukewarm. 


They  have  drugged  the  desires  of  ambition, 

As  an  opiate  deadens  the  brain, 
And  have  stung  spotless  virtue's  volition 

With  an  irritant,  itch-aching  pain. 

For  what  use  then  should  I  longer  stay  them, 
These  poor  withered  wasps  of  last  night? 

From  the  weeds,  not  the  flowers,  surely  they  came, 
Not  to  beautify,  only  to  blight. 

Let  us  up  then  and  off  with  the  morning, 

Let  us  fly,  O  my  heart,  let  us  fly, 
To  the  lands  that  the  dawn  is  adorning, 

Where  to  live  is  not  daily  to  die. 


188  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


THE  FIRST  DREAM 

I  HAVE  fluttered  down  the  ages, 
Since  beneath  the  Eden  tree, 
With  her  head  erect  and  looking 

Down  the  days  that  were  to  be, 
Stood  the  woman,  Eve,  the  chosen, 

Blest  as  only  women  are, 
With  a  mystery  about  her 

Like  the  stillness  round  a  star, 
In  her  fragile  hands  she  held  me 

As  a  bird  is  held  to  fly, 
And  a  little  sound  of  weeping 

Was  commingled  with  Good-bye, 
As  unlacing  her  thin  fingers 

She  outstretched  her  arms  in  prayer, 
And  I  set  sail  on  my  journey 

Down  the  unwinged  virgin  air — 
I,  the  Dream  of  Eve,  the  Mother 

Of  the  generations  vast 
Who  have  danced  away  the  Springtimes 

And  the  Autumns  of  the  past; 
I,  the  Dream  of  Eve,  who  may  not 

Fold  its  wings,  until  there  rise 
On  this  earth  a  man  as  perfect 

As  the  vision  in  her  eyes, 
When  alone  she  stood  in  Eden 

And  beheld  on  Earth's  green  sod 
Her  descendant  standing  fearless, 

In  the  likeness  of  his  God. 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  189 


TO  A  FRIEND 

COME  tell  us,  pray,  where  did  you  get  the  grace, 
Of  that  perennial   youth   that  gilds   your 
heart? 
Not  surely  in  the  sooty  ways  of  men, 

Where  man  is  bought  and  sold  as  in  a  mart; 
Come  tell  us,  pray. 

How  comes  it  that  your  heart  to  hope  gives  ear, 
When  everywhere  vice  cries  out,  trumpet  loud, 

"Fair  Virtue's  dead,  her  ghost,  King  Death,  has  wed, 
And  given  her  for  a  trousseau,  his  white  shroud"; 
How  comes  it  so? 

Are  you  made  strong  within  that  home  of  yours, 
Where  she,  the  gracious  mistress  of  old  grace, 

Sits  by  twin  vital  fountains  of  delight, 

And  with  pure  love  bathes  sorrow  from  your  face; 
Is  it  e'en  so? 

Howe'er  it  is,  it  has  been  mine  to  know 

And  taste  the  kindness  of  your  gen'rous  soul, 

It  has  been  mine  to  hear  you  say,  "God  speed", 
Now  passing  by  your  way  I  pay  this  toll — 
Howe'er  it  is. 


190  RHYMES    AND     RUNES 


"A  YOUNG  MAN'S  FANCY" 

HEN  lilies  of  the  valley  ring 

Their  fairy  chimes  to  madcap  May, 
I  hear  the  voice  of  Cupid  sing. 


I  seem  to  be  obliged  to  fling 

All  sorrow  from  my  heart  away, 
When  lilies  of  the  valley  ring. 

And  as  the  orchestra  of  Spring 

At  Nature's  nod  begins  to  play, 
I  hear  the  voice  of  Cupid  sing. 

Coquettish  hopes  on  level  wing 

Come  back  once  more  to  hear  his  lay, 
When  lilies  of  the  valley  ring. 

When  all  around  me  everything 

Shakes  perfume  from  its  bright  array, 
I  hear  the  voice  of  Cupid  sing. 

From  east  to  west  when  Love  is  king, 

Earth,  sea,  and  sky  each  seems  to  say, 
"When  lilies  of  the  valley  ring 
I  hear  the  voice  of  Cupid  sing." 


O 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  191 


PHRYNE  AND  THE  FOOL 

DAUGHTER  of  a  perverse  Fate, 

Whose  soul  laughs  at  its  fell  decree, 
Say  art  thou  now  disconsolate? 


Dost  thou  remember  at  the  gate 

Of  Life  we  lingered  dreamily, 
O  daughter  of  a  perverse  Fate? 

The  leaves  of  Spring  in  Autumn's  grate 

Blazed  when  Love  touched  us  stealthily, 
Say  art  thou  now  disconsolate? 

Or  is  it  only  I  who  prate, 

Of  past  delights  incessantly, 
O  daughter  of  a  perverse  Fate? 

Cast  out  forlorn  from  Hope's  estate 
I  care  not  what  becomes  of  me. 
Say  art  thou  now  disconsolate? 

If  so,  come  back  and  be  my  mate 

Eternally — Eternally ! 
O  daughter  of  a  perverse  Fate, 
Say  art  thou  now  disconsolate? 


192  RHYMES     AND     RUNES 


W 


MISUNDERSTOOD 

HEN  all  around  misunderstand 

The  worthy  motive  moving  you, 
Then  God  appears  and  takes  your  hand. 


Past,  present,  both  are  bitter  and 

The  Future  has  a  ghostly  hue, 
When  all  around  misunderstand. 

When  all  you  purely  did  and  planned 

You  see  blind  ignorance  undo, 
Then  God  appears  and  takes  your  hand. 

In  vain  you  threaten  and  command 

Vague  shapeless  horrors  from  your  view, 
When  all  around  misunderstand. 

When  ashes  and  the  barren  sand 

Between  your  aching  teeth  you  chew, 
Then  God  appears  and  takes  your  hand. 

This  is  the  secret  that  the  band 

Of  highest  lives  through  sorrow  knew, 
When  all  around  misunderstand 
Then  God  appears  and  takes  your  hand. 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  193 


WHEN  I  WAS  YOUNG 

"  "T   A   THEN  I  was  young,"  old  Christmas  said, 
\l\j     "And  o'er  the  earth  began  to  tread, 
V  Y     The  tears  of  Pan  fell  on  the  snow, 
And  turned  to  seeds  of  mistletoe, 
When  I  was  young." 

"With  bleeding  limbs  the  Dryads  fled 
From  out  the  woods,  and  berries  red 
On  holly  bush  began  to  grow, 
When  I  was  young." 

"And  then  a  strange  report  was  spread, — 
That  laughing  Cupid's  curl-crowned  head 
Should  in  my  presence  be  bent  low, 
That  I  would  break  his  pagan  bow; — 
I  took  him  for  my  friend  instead, 
When  I  was  young." 


194  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


I  SING,  HURRAH! 

1SING,  Hurrah!  for  this  bright  lot, 
Shakespeare  and  Byron,  Burns  and  Scott, 
Four  men  to  whom  the  good  luck  fell, 
To  look  at  Heaven  and  laugh  at  Hell, 
I  sing,  Hurrah! 

They  did  not  care  a  single  jot 
For  unessentials,  and  they  got 
The  joy  that  comes  from  work  done  well, 
I  sing,  Hurrah! 

They  sang  of  Truth  and  for  it  fought, 
"The  Truth,"  they  cried,  "the  Truth  or  naught,' 
In  voice  as  clear  as  silver  bell, 
A  voice  that  casts  o'er  men  a  spell 
And  lifts  them  up  to  it's  high  thought; 
I  sing,  Hurrah! 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  195 


THE  BITTER  CUP 

THE  bitter  cup,  if  it  be  mine 
To  drink,  and  leave  the  fragrant  wine 
Untasted,  Lord  then  make  me  strong 
To  drink  it,  as  mine  ears  a  song, 
The  bitter  cup. 

Think  not  I  murmur  nor  repine, 
Because  I  pray  as  He  did,  Thine, 
"Let  it  pass  from  me  without  wrong, 
The  bitter  cup." 

Well,  well  I  know  the  crystal  line 
Of  highest  lives  drank  it  for  sign 
Of  freedom  from  the  fears  that  throng 
Round  us,  while  we  to  Time  belong; 
They  drained  its  dregs,  nor  did  decline 
The  bitter  cup. 


196  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


THE  MEANEST  MAN 

THE  meanest  man  that  ever  trod 
This  great,  green,  vast,  law-governed  sod, 
Had  thoughts  in  him  as  pure  as  snow 
That  mountain  clouds  embrace,  although 
The  meanest  man. 

Pure  thoughts,  that  neither  need  to  nod 
Nor  blush  before  the  gaze  of  God, 
Tombed  in  the  lowest  of  things  low, 
The  meanest  man. 

Not  as  a  staff,  but  as  a  rod, 
Thoughts  came  to  drive  him  from  the  broad 
Way  unto  everlasting  woe — 
That  is  the  reason,  would  ye  know, 
They  torture  as  a  plague  or  prod, 
The  meanest  man. 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  197 


A  COUNTRY  LANE 

A  COUNTRY  lane!     What  thoughts  arise! 
A  boyhood's  brief  sweet  Paradise, 
A  glimpse  of  Hope  uncrowned  by  Fear, 
A  time  when  Heaven  to  earth  seemed  near, 
A  country  lane! 

Who  has  not  watched  with  wistful  eyes, 
Unheedful  of  the  cowherd's  cries, 
The  clouds  creep,  crack,  then  lift  and  clear, 
A  country  lane! 

Who  says  that  naught  of  solace  lies 
Within  the  thought  of  lanes,  implies 
That  all  is  centered  now  and  here, 
That  life  is  but  a  falling  tear. 
Shall  Time  seem  to  him  when  he  dies 
A  country  lane? 


198  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


TO  AN  OLD  TUNE 

TO  an  old  tune,  a  thought  arose 
Just  now,  upon  the  wind  that  blows 
From  out  the  lands,  where  fairies  keep 
The  secrets  of  primeval  sleep, 
To  an  old  tune. 

A  thought  that  takes  me  where  it  goes 
To  Love,  that  blossoms  like  a  rose, 
Beside  the  song  of  waters  deep, 
To  an  old  tune. 

A  kindly  thought  to  come,  God  knows, 
When  many  troubles  interpose, 
And  best  laid  plans  have  fall'n  aheap, 
O'er  all  it  takes  me  at  a  leap. 
Shall  my  life  gently  near  its  close 
To  an  old  tune? 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  199 


AT  MAIDEN  LANE 

AT  Maiden  Lane  and  Bedford  Street, 
I've  known  a  few  good  fellows  meet, 
Who  knew  the  wisdom  of  the  heart, 
Why  smiles  arise  and  tear-drops  start, 
At  Maiden  Lane. 

I've  felt  the  hand  of  friendship  greet 
The  weary  brother,  storm-beat, 
And  bruised  within  the  cruel  mart, 
At  Maiden  Lane. 

Indeed,  my  life  were  incomplete, 
I  feel,  had  I  not  known  the  sweet 
Companionship,  that  soothed  the  smart 
Of  many  a  buffet  borne  for  art, 
While  humbly  following  her  feet, 
At  Maiden  Lane. 


200  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


A  ROLLING  STONE 

A  ROLLING  stone  for  many  a  day 
Went  bounding  on  its  headlong  way, 
In  wild  chaotic  aimless  flight 
It  dashed  along  with  all  its  might — 

A  rolling  stone. 

What  started  it?  ah  who  can  say? 
For  aught  you  know,  good  folk,  it  may 
Be — mark  you — an  aerolite — 

A  rolling  stone. 

Nay,  stop,  I  will  not  lead  astray, 
Just  hush,  for  pity's  sake  I  pray, 
It  fell  from  a  far  greater  height, 
It  was  a  Man's  heart  with  the  right 
Idea  of  life  once — ai  de  me, 

A  rolling  stone. 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  201 


THE  WAY  IS  LONG 

THE  way  is  long,  my  brother,  will 
You  not  accept  my  hand  until 
We  turn  the  rising  bend,  and  so 
Gain  glimpse  of  the  great  sea  although 

The  Way  is  long? 

The  way  is  long,  my  Lady,  still 
Your  trembling  heart  I  fain  would  fill 
With  dreams  of  Love  that  do  not  know 

The  Way  is  long. 

The  way  is  long,  My  Master,  thrill 
Me  through  with  Truth  again  and  kill 
The  hypocrite  in  me,  too  low 
For  words — forgive  me,  Master — Oh, 
I  pray  you  help  me  o'er  this  hill, 

The  Way  is  long. 


202  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


HER  WEDDING  GOWN 

HER  wedding  gown  I  oft  have  thought, 
Should  by  the  woman's  hands  be  wrought, 
Who  in  Supreme  Surrender  dares 
To  trust  her  all,  and  proudly  wears 

Her  wedding  gown. 

Each  stitch  a  thread  of  Hope,  made  taut 
With  some  divine  sweet-lover's  knot, 
And  silver  fancies  too  it  bears, 

Her  wedding  gown. 

For  either  this  shall  be  its  lot, — 
White  emblem  of  the  peace  that  ought 
To  crown  the  Love  that  conquers  cares, 
Or,  bitter  thought,  as  oft  it  fares, 
The  winding-sheet  of  Faith,  I  wot 

Her  wedding  gown. 


RHYMES    AND     RUNES  203 


HER  OVERSHOES 

HER  overshoes  when  down  the  rain, 
Comes  pit-a-pat  on  a  window  pane, 
She  thinks  but  little  of  no  doubt, 
What  use  if  she's  not  going  out 

Her  overshoes? 

But  when  the  streets  are  like  a  drain 
And  out  she  must,  why  she  is  fain 
To  find,  as  she  looks  roundabout, 

Her  overshoes. 

And  do  you  know  I  think  it  gain, 
And  try  to  make  her  see  it  plain, 
That  Fate  may  frolic,  frown,  or  pout, 
To  all  my  heart  shall  give  the  flout, 
If  I  shall  be  through  Life's  long  lane 

Her  overshoes. 


204  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


HER  PETTICOAT 

HER  petticoat  from  what  I  see 
Beneath  her  skirt,  caught  to  her  knee 
For  just  a  breathless  moment's  space, 
Is  made  of  billowy  silk  and  lace, 

Her  petticoat! 

A  soft  diaph'nous  drapery, 

Of  ample  width  to  leave  her  free, 

To  step  forth  with  Diana's  grace, 

Her  petticoat. 

Were  I  a  poet,  ah,  dear  me! 
Perchance  I'd  find  a  simile 
In  that  which  doth  her  limbs  incase 
To  foam,  such  as  did  Venus'  place 
Adorn,  when  she  arose  in  glee — 

Her  petticoat. 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  205 


HER  PARASOL 

HER  parasol  with  handle  rare, 
Of  Dresden's  daintiest  earthenware, 
She  fingers  as  an  Aaron's  rod, 
Ah,  but  it  is  with  iron  shod 

Her  parasol. 

Now  like  a  rose-cloud  of  thin  air, 

To  shade  her  face  from  the  fierce  glare, 

Of  Sol — the  ancient  Pagan's  god 

Her  parasol. 

Dear  me!  if  I  could  take  the  care 
Of  her,  as  it  does — and  could  spare 
Her  Soul  from — Nonsense,  I  have  trod 
The  way  into  the  land  of  nod, 
And  find  myself  when  I  am  there 

Her  parasol. 


206  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


HER  LITTLE  HAT 

HER  little  hat  sits  on  her  head, 
Made  up  of  birds  and  flowers  that  wed, 
Her  dusky  dream-lit  paradise 
Of  hair,  that  holds  in  sweet  surprise 

Her  little  hat. 

Though  she  on  Fashion's  food  is  fed — 
My  Lady — and  by  that  nurse  led 
Who  masquerades  in  this  last  guise, 

Her  little  hat. 

Heaven  save  the  mark!  since  Cupid  sped 
An  arrow  to  a  man's  heart  red 
With  blood,  he  would  but  lightly  prize 
The  sounds  and  odors  that  arise 
From  Eden,  but  would  choose  instead, 

Her  little  hat. 


RHYMES    AND    RUNES  207 


HER  SMALL  KID  GLOVE 

HER  small  kid  glove  lay  on  her  hand 
As  if  it  seemed  to  understand 
The  precious  jewels  it  covered  o'er 
Dug  from  the  waiting  earth's  warm  core, 

Her  small  kid  glove. 

It  pressed  what  once  my  heart  had  planned 
To  press,  but  failed,  being  over-manned 
With  fears — now  all  it  can  adore, 

Her  small  kid  glove. 

One  day  from  out  a  distant  land 
An  angel-suitor,  with  a  wand 
Of  sunlight,  beckoned  her  to  soar 
And  drop  her  body,  as  of  yore 
She  dropped  upon  the  summer  sand 

Her  small  kid  glove. 


208  RHYMES    AND    RUNES 


IN  BEAUTY'S  NAME 

IN  Beauty's  name  the  Truth  was  told 
By  artists  in  the  days  of  old, 
Then  hearts  were  lifted  and  made  free 
And  fearless  as  the  open  sea, 

That  none  can  tame. 

Now  men  in  times  of  strife  for  gold, 

With  eyes  grown  heavy,  hearts  grown  cold, 

Forget  how  they  gained  Liberty 

In  Beauty's  name. 

Shall  I  be  counted  overbold, 
Who  pour  my  thoughts  into  the  mould 
Of  simple  rhymes?    If,  tremblingly, 
I  dare  to  speak  of  harmony, 
And  bid  men's  eyes  to  Truth  unfold 
In  Beauty's  name? 


FAIR  WOMEN  AND 
BRAVE  MEN 


1 


FAIR  WOMEN  AND  BRAVE  MEN 


TO  MRS.  H.  F.  McC. 

REED  of  song  I  know  is  far  too 

small 
On  which  to  carve  her  name,  but 

may  it  be 

A  sylvan  flute  to  the  old  Pan  in  me, 
Through  which  my  inmost  longings 

one  and  all 

Are  piped  in  praise  and  so  made  musical, 
In  praise  of  her  who  is  star  melody, 
Even  as  she  is  the  star  of  Sympathy 
From  which  delicious  rays  of  comfort  fall. 
And  though  my  notes  grow  faint  before  they  gain 

The  golden  hush  of  her  high  holy  place, 
Away  beyond  my  galaxy  of  Dreams, 
I  know  my  gracious  Star  will  not  refrain 

From  shedding  on  me  understanding's  grace 
Nor  hide  her  comprehending  heart-warm  beams. 


211 


212      FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE     MEN 


SHAKESPEARE 

THE  blind  bard  eloquent  of  Colophon, 
The  foremost  singer  of  the  Epic  Song, 
Is  like  a  river  on  whose  breast  the  strong 
Young  Gods  and  Heroes  sport  with  Leda's  Swan. 
The  Florentine,  Hell's  fires  and  Heaven's  dawn 
Wove  into  words  that  to  all  time  belong, 
And  like  a  star  shines,  piercing  depths  of  wrong, 
A  mist  of  pity  round  its  radiance  drawn. 
But  Shakespeare,  Man,  what  shall  we  say  thou  art, 
An  ocean  into  which  all  rivers  flow, 
Reflecting  all  the  Stars  that  gleam  or  glow, 
The  conch-shell  on  its  shore — a  Human  Heart. 
Ah!  Idle  words  we  only  know  Sweet  Sage, 
The  breath  of  Being  fills  thy  careless  page. 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND     BRAVE     MEN     213 


ALGERNON  CHARLES  SWINBURNE 

HAIL,  matchless  maker  of  rich  rhythmic  thought, 
Whose  ear  has  listened  to  the  gray-lipped 
sea, 
And  caught  its  mighty  pulsing  melody, 

And  learned  its  subtle  secrets,  safely  brought 

From  days  when  Sophocles  and  Sappho  wrought, 

From  vine-crowned  days,  when  laughing  joyously 
The  Soul  discerned  the  Body's  symmetry, 

And  Beauty  was  the  blessing  all  men  sought. 

Ah,  but  the  voice  of  Villon,  too,  you  heard, 
And  all  the  singers  of  his  after  time, 
When  sigh  on  sigh  smiled  into  rippling  rhyme, 

Spontaneous  as  the  music  of  a  bird; 

Then  taught  thereat,  you  sang  as  you  best  can, 
The  pain  and  pleasure,  hope  and  scope  of  man. 


214     FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE     MEN 


EDWIN  BOOTH 

NO  man  bears  sorrow  better,"  so  he  spoke 
One  night,  when  for  a  noble  solemn  space, 
The  soul  of  Brutus  lay  upon  his  face; 
And  at  his  voice  the  sleeping  Past  awoke, 
And,  for  he  never  passed  beneath  the  yoke 
;  Of  self,  in  home  life,  or  in  public  place, 
These  words  seem  like  an  epitaph  of  grace, 
Carved  on  Ygdrasil,  Time's  symbolic  oak. 
Where  does  his  message  point,  oh,  brothers  mine, 
Who  sometimes  see  beyond  the  prison  bars 
Of  Fate,  the  gleaming  of  immortal  stars 
Of  Truth  still  through  the  night  of  waiting  shine? 
In  reverence,  bending  low  with  bated  breath, 
The  answer  takes  us  back  to  Nazareth. 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE     MEN     215 


MARY  ANDERSON 

WE  give  you  thanks  because  you  paint  with  light 
The  high  lights  of  existence,  these  the  pure 
Who,  tried  by  tempting  Time,  withstand 

sin's  lure 

And  lash,  and  at  the  end  are  found  upright; 
Hermione  and  Perdita  and  bright 

Blythe  Rosalind  and  Juliet  can  cure 
Care-wound  hearts  that  weep,  and  lift  them  sure 
To  mountain  tops  of  Hope,  where  Love's  in  sight. 
Let  others  paint  but  shadows  if  they  will, 

The  shadows  sin  casts  on  their  paltry  life; 
You,  and  you  must,  can  take  us  over  strife 
To  Peace,  that  passeth  understanding  still, 
Can  take  us  to  a  land  of  clearer  air, 
Where  even  Duty's  hard  face  seemeth  fair. 


216     FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE     MEN 


ELLEN  TERRY 

FAIR  follower  of  the  feet  of  Fancy,  clad 
In  clinging  robes  of  ample  antique  grace, 
Dear  dreamer  of  the  Future's  human  face, 
Whose  eyes  now  dashed  with  gracious  tears,  now  glad 
With  Love's  own  light,  are  never  wholly  sad ; 

For  well  have  they  discerned,  past  Time  and  Space, 
And  all  the  finite  phantoms  that  men  chase, 
A  goal,  where  good  shall  triumph  over  bad! 
True  artist  in  the  all  embracing  art, 

Wherein  the  vitalest  of  minds  have  wrought, 
Sweet  spendthrift  of  the  knowledge  genius 

brought — 
The  inner  workings  of  the  human  heart; — 

How  shall  I  praise  thee  without  conscious  blame? 
By  saying,  Life  is  coupled  with  thy  name? 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND     BRAVE     MEN        217 


JULIA  MARLOW 

A  NEST  of  smiles  inbloom  beneath  the  eaves 
Of  Truth ;  the  love  blood  of  the  roses  red 
And  white  at  last;  in  joyous  rapture  wed 
And  blossoming  in  Beauty  budding  leaves 
Of  heart-warm  Hopes,  the  garland  Life  achieves 
When  fair  desires  by  Faith  are  perfected; 
Compassion,  tender  as  the  green  tears  shed 
By  Dawn  awaking  in  a  field  of  sheaves; 
A  breath  of  Spring  as  from  a  wind  that  blew 

Across  eternal  Youth's  Utopian  sea, 
And  moments  when  the  Soul  came  shining  through 

Like  polar  lights  of  Immortality; 
But  best  of  all  a  woman  clothed  in  power 
More  fair  than  aught  when  Knighthood  was  in 
Flower ! 


218     FAIR     WOMEN    AND     BRAVE     MEN 


ADA  REHAN 

AS  fresh  as  Dawn,  arrayed  in  grey  and  gold, 
When  tripping  lightly  o'er  a  mobile  sea, 
As  calm  as  Dusk,  dream-laden,  silently 
Enticing  weary  minds  into  her  fold ; 
So  is  that  art  of  thine  by  Love  made  bold, 
Upholding  Life's  best  mirror,  for  the  free 
To  gaze  on  and  see  there — Humanity, 
The  same  at  heart  e'en  now  as  'twas  of  old. 
Yet  still  behind  the  art  stands  strong  and  clear, 
A  gracious,  tender  personality, 
A  winning  smile  of  sweet  simplicity, 
An  open-handed  heart  that  offers  cheer, 
A  soul,  a  something,  I  may  not  define, 
And  yet  that  "something,"  lady,  we  call  thine. 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND     BRAVE     MEN     219 


MAUDE  ADAMS 

THE  calm  caressing  hand  of  finished  art 
Lifted  the  latch  of  Childhood's  golden  gate, 
And  let  me  look  in  wonder  at  the  great 
Sun-rimmed  horizon  of  Youth's  trusting  heart; 
Revealed  the  fountain-head  where  tears  upstart 
To  bathe  the  brows  of  weary  world- worn  fate; 
And  then  unveiled  the  smiles  that  compensate 
For  sin  and  sorrow's  frown  and  every  smart. 
To  find  a  fitting  word  to  speak  the  praise 
Of  her,  the  fair  magician  of  the  dawn 
Of  life,  again  and  yet  again  I  tried 
And  found  it  not,  although  my  glad  heart  says, 

"Now  I  have  seen,  in  joy  I  can  toil  on, 
Imagination  is  personified". 


220     FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE     MEN 


MADAM   NAZIMOVA 

HER  reaching  Throat,  her  supplicating  Hands 
And  Dawn;  these,  these  I  saw,  then  felt 
that  all 

The  purple  robes  of  Passion,  and  the  thrall 
Of  instincts  older  than  Mankind,  and  bands 
Begotten  in  the  ooze  of  Time  ere  lands 

Took  shape,  from  off  a  soul  began  to  fall, 
Because  that  Soul  had  heard  the  quick'ning  call 
Of  Love  that  unifies  and  understands. 
Aching  to  make  my  peace  with  the  wide  eyes 

Of  my  drowned  Youth,  there  came  like  flashing 

wands 

To  me  a  sense  of  Joy,  such  as  a  Soul 
Unearthed  may  feel  on  seeing  Paradise; 

For  Beauty  smiled  on  me  and  made  me  whole — 
But  oh,  my  God!  her  supplicating  hands! 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE     MEN     221 


HENRIETTA  GROSSMAN 

THE  wings  of  Cupid  feathered  to  a  dart 
Of  wit;  the  joy  of  Youth  with  twinkling  feet 
In  mischief  dancing  down  dame  Rumor's 

street 

To  scatter  April  blossoms  in  a  mart; 
The  blush  of  Nature  on  the  cheeks  of  Art, 

The  music  heard  where  dreams  and  mem'ries  meet, 
And  yet  withal  distinct  and  subtly  sweet 
The  hint  of  Autumn's  sadness  at  Spring's  heart; 
A  sense  of  rest  in  work  completely  done, 
An  atmosphere  to  breathe  in  fearlessly, 
A  dimpled  nest  of  laughter  and  delight, 
A  ripened  pleasure  basking  in  the  sun 
Of  comprehensive  human  sympathy, 
A  new  found  facet  of  the  Infinite! 


222      FAIR     WOMEN    AND     BRAVE     MEN 


A  BROTHER  ARTIST 

ABOVE  all  vain  desirings  greatly  calm, 
Brother,  ycur  life  towers  visible  to  men, 
Self-centered  in  the  truth  of  things,  again 
A  noble  soul  by  silence  scatters  sham — 
Yea,  in  your  shadow  falls  a  dewy  balm 

For  those  who  can  escape  the  prison  pen 

Of  self,  who  can,  when  Truth  speaks,  say, 

"Amen," 

And  hear,  as  you  have  heard,  great  Nature's  psalm. 
Doubtless  your  heart  has  drunk  the  bitter  cup, 
When  what  was  best  you  saw  discredited, 
And  laurels  placed  upon  the  worthless  head, 
And  heard  the  voice  of  folly  lifted  up; 

Natheless  you  shunned  the  plaudit-loving  school, 
And  wooed  with  winning  voice,  the  Beautiful. 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND     BRAVE     MEN     223 


MADONNA  MIA 

I  CLOSE  my  eyes  and  see  you  as  you  were, 
Madonna  of  the  dead  rose-colored  days, 
A  stately  lily  looming  through  a  haze 
Of  golden  light,  a  fane  where  Dreams  confer 
The  Spring-songs  of  all  ages  for  a  prayer 
To  Beauty;  Nay,  an  undulating  blaze 
Of  flower-foam  on  the  sun-paved  waving  ways 
Of  Thought  vouchsafed  a  young  Truth  worshipper. 
And  thinking  of  you  thus,  I  lift  the  lid 

Of  memory,  beholding  the  embalmed 
Pale  mummy  of  first  Love,  with  tender  eyes 
I  smile  a  moment  knowing  what  Fate  did 

And  left  undone  before  you  were  becalmed 
Beneath  another  man's  more  ample  skies. 


224     FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE    MEN 


ANNA 

EYOND  the  girdle  of  our  galaxy, 

At  vital  Beauty's  absolute  behest, 
My  Soul  set  sail  upon  a  solemn  quest 
Across  the  silence  that  must  ever  be 
'Twixt  known  and  unknown,  with  an  earnest  plea, 
That  Fate  might  let  it  face  and  bravely  breast 
The  void  between  Time's  system  and  the  Blest 
On  starry  shores  washed  by  a  rose-foamed  sea. 
The  crowning  Verity  my  Spirit  found, 
A  wand'ring  angel  singing,  it  is  true, 
From  song  on  sunbeams  writ  in  notes  of  dew — 
Might  chronicle  in  satisfying  sound; 

Was  it  not  you  my  own,  Love's  living  heart, 
Nature's  epitome,  Truth's  counterpart. 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE    MEN     225 


TO  ANNA 

EHOLD  here  is  the  land  where  lost  Desires 
Are  met  again  in  all  their  pristine  glow, 
Fair-faced  and  fabulously  white — as  snow 
O'er  which  the  light  of  borealis  fires 
A  moment  blushes  and  in  joy  expires — 

The  lost  Desires  of  youth,  that  long  ago 
My  heart  ached  after  for  it  loved  them  so, 
Now  found  here  in  the  land  where  Spring's  voice  quires 
A  melody  to  Love,  the  All  Supreme, 

To  Love,  the  Master-maker  of  all  song, 
To  Love,  the  God  of  Peace  and  every  grace; 
And  do  you  know — you  Flower  of  Beauty's  dream, 
My  lost  Desires  that  I  had  loved  so  long 
I  find  within  the  garden  of  your  face. 


226     FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE    MEN 


MRS.   I.  N.  M. 

YOUNG  Summer  passing  with  the  smile  of 
Spring 
Flashed  unexpected  on  my  lonely  way, 
And  left  me  awed  and  tactless  to  array 
My  thoughts  and  give  my  feeble  words  free  wing. 
Yet  I  would  fain,  though  dumbly,  send  something 
Of  praise  up  to  that  Lady's  soul,  and  pray 
That  she  will  think,  as  well  indeed  she  may, 
I  thank  her  for  the  thoughts  I  cannot  sing: 
Thoughts,  warm  as  peonies  that  perfume  noon 

With  clinging  sweetness  in  sun-crowned  July, 
Thoughts,  free  as  fairies  dancing  to  a  tune 

Chimed  from  vale-lilies  in  a  moon-lit  sky, 
But  o'er  all  else  and  in  the  foremost  place, 
A  noble  thought  that  somehow  wears  her  face. 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE     MEN     227 


TO  MY  SON'S  MOTHER 

IF  I  could  take  the  holy  words  of  men, 
Such  words  as  Light  and  Lifej  and  Love  and  Death, 
And  melt  them  into  one  melodious  breath, 
Then  tenderly  in  some  sweet  Nazareth 
Of  Silence  bring  it  forth  a  song — why  then 
I  might  repeat  what  my  heart  hears  again 
And  yet  again  in  fainting  moments,  when 
Her  hand  to  mine  unworthy  whispereth. 
It  cannot  be,  it  cannot  be  I  know, 
Yet  of  her  Spirit-wine  I  would  that  all 
Who  need  might  drink,  and  take  the  road  that  leads 
Up  to  the  mountain-tops  where  virgin  snow 
Keeps  warm  the  lost  Ideal — God,  how  small 
To  blazon  her  nobility — my  Deeds . 


228     FAIR     WOMEN    AND     BRAVE     MEN 


AN  ACROSTIC 

W  ITH  singing  hearts  we  greet  again  the  day 
Immortalized  forever  by  thy  name, 
Life-deep  in  thoughts  of  thee,  it  is  our  shame 
Love  finds  no  phrase  wherein  to  fit  thy  Fame, 
So  Godlike  that  we  turn  to  thee  and  pray. 
Has  Earth  yet  seen  a  man  more  human?    Nay, 
All  claim,  or  high  or  low  or  grave  or  gay, 
Kinship  with  thee,  our  brother  in  Life's  game. 
Stand  then  as  Beauty's  Prophet  and  High  Priest, 
Pervading  us  with  Sweetness  and  with  Light, 
Enthralling  us  with  Mirthfulness  and  Might, 
And  as  thou  chantest  at  Springs  flowery  gate, 
Replenish  us,  when  overcome  by  Fate, 
Entirely  at  Love's  sacramental  feast. 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND     BRAVE    MEN     229 


SHAKESPEARE'S  BIRTHDAY 

UPON  the  Sancta  Scalla  of  the  years, 
I  hear  the  rustling  garments  of  the  Spring, 
And  from  the  earth  there  comes  a 

whispering, 

That  even  now  breaks  into  lusty  cheers, 
Full-throated  choruses  that  drown  the  fears 
Of  man's  mortality,  and  gaily  swing 
Our  souls  to  Beauty's  lap  rejoicing, 
Till  Nature's  face  itself  is  glad  with  tears. 
For  this  is  Shakespeare's  birthday,  he  who  found 
The  key  that  opens  wide  the  gates  that  guard 
The  many  mansions  of  the  Human  Heart; 
The  inexhaustible  Immortal  Bard, 
Who  climbs  forever  round  by  golden  round 
The  Heaven-scaling  scaffolding  of  Art. 


230     FAIR     WOMEN    AND     BRAVE     MEN 


TO  MARIE 

HERE  by  the  milestone  of  another  year, 
That  marks  the  winding  way  your  feet  have 
trod, 

Thoughts  will  arise  and  questions  to  your  God, 
Why  this  was  so,  why  that  was  not  made  clear, 
Why  patience  was  rewarded  with  a  tear, 

Why  everywhere  derision  stalks  abroad, 

Why  high  endeavor  scarce  can  get  a  nod 
From  recognition,  and  no  word  of  cheer. 
From  out  the  wine-press  of  experience, 

A  goblet  of  the  blood-red  wine  of  pain 

I  drink  to  you  again,  and  yet  again, 
And  bid  you  hope,  and  find  a  certain  sense 

Of  joy  in  conquered  Self,  and  endless  strife 

And  gallant  bearing  in  the  war  of  Life. 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND     BRAVE     MEN     231 


WHEN  THE  MOTHER  PASSED 

ACROSS  the  din  and  smoke  of  this  dim  spot, 
I  send  a  voice  that  vain  would  reach  your 
ear, 

A  voice  that  fain  would  melt  into  a  tear, 
And  drop  like  dew  into  your  heart,  and  blot 
Quite  out  the  grief  that  now  must  be  your  lot, 
As  silently  you  kneel  beside  the  bier 
Of  her  who  now  has  done  with  yearn  or  year, 
And  knows  the  things  that  are,  aye,  and  are  not. 
But  in  the  presence  of  the  conqu'ring  Calm, 
Has  not  a  dawn-robed  Hope  already  come, 
And  dropped  a  thought  into  your  mind,  in  some 
Mysterious  way,  a  satisfying  balm, 

A  thought  that  silently  doth  seem  to  say, 
"Death  is  but  Birth,  Night  cometh  before  Day"  ? 


232     FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE    MEN 


TO  A  LITTLE  GIRL 

T   THINK  of  thee,  and  at  the  chariot  wheels 
Of  Dawn,  I  see  a  palpitating  host 

JL  Of  poets'  Dreams  in  golden  chains,  whose  boast 

Of  fabled  beauty  fades  as  each  one  steals 

A  furtive  glance  and  in  obeisance  kneels 

To  thee,  their  Queen,  upon  the  vernal  coast 
Of  Harmony  enthroned ;  to  thee  the  most 

Alluring  Joy  Divinity  reveals 

To  me  on  earth ;  to  thee  the  only  one 
Flame-lily  blooming  in  the  midnight  skies 

Of  Peace;  to  thee  the  mouth  of  Hope,  the  breath 
Of  Faith,  the  heart  of  Charity;  ah  none 

Like  unto  Madge  this  side  that  Paradise 

That  lies  beyond  the  pallid  gates  of  Death. 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND     BRAVE     MEN      233 


TO  ANOTHER  LITTLE  GIRL 

IF  by  some  psychic  alchemy  I  might 
Distil  the  wood-notes  of  an  unblown  Spring 
Into  a  perfect  word,  I  then  might  sing 
Of  that  delicious  vision  of  delight, 
With  silver  mist  and  lily-buds  bedight, 

That  seems  from  out  a  pale  green  East  to  bring 
An  apple-leaf  of  Love  for  offering, 
Whene're  my  thoughts,  Catherine,  have  you  in  sight. 
Alas!     Alack!  with  this  crude  utterance 

Alone  can  I  express  my  thanks  for  those 
Divine  suggestions  of  the  Infinite 
You  shed  like  April-blossoms  in  a  dance 

Of  sunbeams  on  my  mind;  Ah  well,  who  knows, 
Perhaps  you  will  translate  my  heart  a-right. 


234     FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE    MEN 


TO  MY  BOY 

DONALD,  my  son,  you  know  you  bear  a  name 
Derived  from  an  old  Gaelic  root,  'tis  said ; 
It  means  The  Chief,  The  Leader,  or  The 

Head; 

Live  up  to  it,  prepared  for  praise  or  blame, 
Be  still  the  Chief  in  Life's  enthralling  game, 
Who  lifts  and  comforts  the  discomfited, 
Who  leads  with  honor  all  who  can  be  led 
Along  the  straight  and  narrow  path  to  Fame. 
Yea,  as  you  are  my  heart's  chief  hope  and  pride, 
Free,  fearless,  and  forgiving,  staunch  and  true, 
I  pray  Almighty  God  to  grant  that  you 
Be  nothing  less  to  others;  and  be  blessed 

Remembr'ing  in  the  days  when  sorely  tried, 
Virtutis  Gloria  Merces,  on  your  crest 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE     MEN     235 


THEODORE  ROOSEVELT 

THE  spirit  of  a  nation  young  and  strong 
Became  incarnate,  and  behold  a  man 
Who  heard  his  fearless  heart-beats  say, 

"I  can," 

As  cowboy-like  he  threw  a  lariat  thong 
Of  Love  around  the  horns  of  Fate,  ere  long 

Thus  rounding  up  our  hearts  into  his  plan, 
Of  marching  ever  in  the  foremost  van 
Of  Freedom,  singing  brotherhood's  blythe  song. 
So  year  by  year  we  follow  his  large  stride 

In  his  heroic  winning  of  a  world, 
And  catch  faint  glimpses  of  that  Eastertide 

When  everywhere  Love's  flag  will  be  unfurled, 
Yea  hear  his  name  still  ringing  in  Time's  school, 
While  strength  is  god-like  and  youth  beautiful. 


236     FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE    MEN 


TO  A.  J.  B. 

UPON  her  faultless  lips  I  hear  ray  name 
For  one  sweet  recompensing  moment,  and 
I  feel  along  my  arm  her  little  hand, 
And  forest  dreams  and  mysteries  like  flame 
Burn  in  my  heart  deliriously  the  same 

As  when  we  were  two  singers  in  a  band 
Of  rebel  dryads,  she  and  I,  who  planned 
Great  conquests  in  the  world  of  men!     Well,  Fame 
Has  dipped  his  pen  into  the  Sun  and  writ 
Upon  the  green  page  of  the  world,  for  all 

To  read,  My  Lady's  name,  and  as  for  me — 
It  is  enough  that  on  her  lips  I  see 
My  name.     Enough?    It  is  as  exquisite, 
As  it  is  comforting  and  virginal. 


FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE     MEN     237 


ON  MARGARET   ROBERTSON'S  PORTRAIT 

I  STAND  before  the  wisdom  of  your  smile, 
To  feel  my  heart  lay  down  a  heavy  load 
Of  grim  anxieties,  and  take  the  road 
With  Hope  again,  although  red  mile  on  mile 
Of  Flame  and  Sword  raise  angry  arms  to  pile 

The  patient  earth  with  carnage;  yet  that  code 
Of  sunny  faith  in  which  your  soul  abode, 
Has  strengthened  mine  to  feel  whatever  wile 
Or  woe  the  monstrous  days  now  bring  our  land, 
However  bruised  her  fair  unbended  head, 

She  shall  surmount  at  last  right  gloriously, 
And,  hatched  beneath  the  wings  of  Victory, 
Peace  shall  come  forth  and  offer  a  right  hand 
And  smile,  like  yours,  to  the  discomfited. 


238     FAIR     WOMEN    AND    BRAVE    MEN 


ARAB 

1LOVE  you,  with  a  passion  woven  out 
Of  memories  of  fragrant  purple  nights, 
And  subtle  ecstasies  and  pale  delights 
That  hovered  'twixt  the  eyes  of  Hope  and  Doubt; 
I  love  you,  with  a  spirit  wrapped  about 

With  haunting  shreds  of  ancient  sounds  and  sights 
From  when  God  set  this  Universe  to  rights, 
And  Darkness  by  the  Dawn  was  put  to  rout. 
I  love  you  proudly,  with  a  living  Faith 

In  your  high  destiny  to  cross  the  sands 
Of  Time,  singing  your  song,  an  honored  guest 
And  blythe  Joy-bringer  to  the  troubled  breast 
Of  Man,  but  in  my  tent  I  pray,  when  Death 

Says,  "Come,"  your  hands  will  clasp  in  love  my 
hands. 


MAY  1  3  1982 

DATE  DUE 


PHINTIOINU    «   A 


PS3535  0244D7  1915 
Robertson,  Donald. 
Dramatic  poems,  songs  & 
sonnets , 


«  ?  S.?Y.™ERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    001256143 


3  1210  00362  8987 


